For Their Flowers
by AndThatWasEnough
Summary: It's the summer of 1967 – the Summer of Love. Or, better known to Ponyboy Curtis as the first summer without Johnny Cade by his side. The summer he learned what a joint was. The summer he decided The Beatles weren't so bad. The summer when not only the nation changed, but so did he.
1. It Begins as It Ends

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! Welcome to "For Their Flowers". It's gonna be novel-length.**

 **A while ago, I wrote a story titled "Something Inside (That Was Always Denied)." It was essentially a precursor to this story. It's not essential to read, but writing** ** _that_** **story is what inspired the writing of** ** _this_** **story.**

 **This one picks up at the end of the school year 1967, aka "The Summer of Love." This time, however, we're gonna let Ponyboy take over the story.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

Usually, I hate when school ends. This year was different.

The clock on the wall above the door had stopped working ages ago. It no longer ticked. I didn't have on a watch, so there was really no way to keep track of the time. The final announcements of the year and then that final bell were what I was waiting for. What everyone was waiting for, actually. Mr. Syme's class sure was boring without anything left to learn.

"Hey. Ponyboy."

I turned my head. The guy next to me, Evan Peters, was the one who'd gotten my attention. "Yeah?"

I liked Evan good enough. He didn't talk too much, and he wasn't some slob. I mean, that's not to say I am, but he wasn't some socy guy. But I don't know if people really say "soc" anymore. That all sorta changed after…well. After. "You got any plans for the summer?"

I had to hold back a sigh. We _never_ had summer plans, even when Mom and Dad were around. Sometimes we'd go out to the country. I suppose those could be "plans." We'd go out for a day, and us guys would go fishing and swimming, and Mom would do up lunch. It was just hanging out in a different place. These days, though, we hardly did much of anything. Summer was hot; my summer plans included bitching about the heat.

"Not really," I shrugged. I didn't think telling him I planned to read all the books in the library would make him think I was real cool or anything. "Hang around. What about you?"

"We have a lake house out in Sand Springs. Or, my grandparents do. But we use it more than they do. We're prolly gonna head out there for a while. You ever been to Sand Springs? It's real close by."

I shook my head. "Nah. We aren't big lake people." Well, I didn't know if that was true, exactly, but we never went. We did all of our swimming at the community pool, or at the river.

"Well, if ya wanted, you could come out with us for a couple days. It'd be fun."

Like I said, Evan was a nice guy, and he was a whole lot nicer than a lot of people were…after all that happened. But I just wasn't sure. "Yeah, maybe. I'll have to ask my brother," I said, trying to sound a little bit enthusiastic so he wouldn't feel let down. Evan smirked, and that seemed to be enough for him.

"Alright," Mr. Syme said from the front of the classroom. He was standing and had a stack of papers in his hand. "I have all your semester themes graded." He started weaving his way through the desks. "I was very pleased…"

I started feeling a bit nervous. I noticed he didn't have mine in that stack. And I would know. My theme had taken up three whole composition notebooks. I would've seen it right off. What if he'd hated it? What if he didn't like the swearing? What if…what if he didn't like me anymore after reading it? He'd treated me nice after everything…but still, what if?

"I hope you all have a good summer," Mr. Syme said once he'd finished passing out the themes. I was the only one without one. Great. Now everyone's gonna think I just didn't bother with it. Just what I need. The bell rang, and everyone sprang up from their seats to file out of the school. "Make sure to stop by and say 'hello' next year!" Mr. Syme called over the noise. "Oh, and Ponyboy! I'd like to speak to you for a moment."

Oh, boy. "Yes, Mr. Syme?" I asked, trying to hide how nervous I was. He walked around to his desk and opened a drawer. I watched as he pulled out my notebooks. He held them out to me.

"Here it is," he smirked. I took them from him slowly. "Ponyboy – "

"Did you not like it?" I asked hurriedly. Mr. Syme laughed.

"Quite the contrary. I loved it. Gave you an A. You'll see it if you open the first book." I did, and sure enough, there was a big fat _A+_ there. I was a bit too stunned to smile about it or anything.

"Really?" I squeaked, and boy, did that make me feel silly.

"Really," he said. "I left some comments throughout as well. It really was well-written, Ponyboy. Can't say I wasn't surprised to get a whole _novel_ when I only asked for a few pages," he laughed, "but it was a good read."

I was still staring at that _A+_. This theme had gone and saved my grade. Thank _God_. Darry would be happy about that, for sure. "Thanks, Mr. Syme," I breathed.

"You're very welcome, Ponyboy. Be sure to come and see me sometimes next year."

I looked up and grinned. "You bet, sir," I said, and he laughed as I left the classroom.

Two-Bit was my ride home that day, but finding him was gonna be a challenge. The hallways were like if all the animals in the zoo had got loose and were now running through the halls of Will Rogers High School. The end of the day is always sorta noisy, but nothing compared to this. I still couldn't get past two things: I'd actually made it through my first year of high school, and _Mr. Syme had liked my theme_. I hadn't been expecting that.

I found Two-Bit leaning against a column in the lobby. There was sun streaming through the colorful art deco windows, shining down on him and the girl he was with. I recognized her as the girl I'd sat next to in art class. She was writing something in his yearbook.

"Hey, Two-Bit," I said, worried I'd walked into something and that they didn't want me there.

"Hey, kid. Gimme a sec," Two-Bit greeted, briefly glancing at me. "What're you writin', a _novel?_ "

"Shut up," she said, but she didn't seem mad. She just shut his yearbook and handed it back, smiled at him, then ran down the steps to join her friends. I was able to see Cherry Valance at the bottom of the staircase, but she didn't see me. Two-Bit smiled after her. Then he seemed to snap out of it and notice me.

"Kid, gimme your yearbook," he demanded, and then just yanked it out of my hands.

"Careful," I said, sounding a bit whiny. "I've kept it real nice so far."

"I ain't gonna screw it up," he said dismissively, waving me off. He was flipping through the pages.

"You know, you got one of your own. You can just look through yours."

Two-Bit looked aghast. "Kiddo! I need to find a place to _sign_ yours!"

I rolled my eyes. Two-Bit pulled a pen out of his pocket after he'd found the perfect spot, held the cap between his teeth, and scribbled something in my yearbook before passing it back off to me. His message read:

 _Ponyboy –_

 _See you at home!_

 _Kisses,_

 _Two-Bit_

I must've looked at him funny because he laughed at me. "You're weird," I grumbled.

"So're you," he shot back. "C'mon, Ponykid, I wanna get the hell outta here."

"Where's Steve?" I asked as we walked down the lobby steps. Two-Bit raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, so suddenly you care where Steve is?" I scowled. "He and Evie split pretty quick. They were gonna go do somethin', but he'll be at your place tonight, is what he told me. Hope you don't mind walkin' – my truck's still in the shop. And…" He looked down at my feet for some reason. "Looks like you remembered your shoes today, so I'd say we're good."

The guys still teased me a lot about that time I came home from track practice without my shoes. But that was a long time ago. I wish they'd just drop it. "I don't mind walkin'," I said. "Ya know, maybe you should just ditch the truck and get a new car."

Two-Bit shrugged. "Maybe. Costs money," he said. He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. "Man, kid, am I glad to be outta there."

"You're a senior now," I said, actually feeling a little proud of him. Not that he couldn't have graduated in four years easily, but because he decided to quit screwing around.

We'd all changed, after all.

"I know. It's crazy," he said, and even though I couldn't see his eyes, I could see his eyebrows shoot up. "But I ain't even worried about it right now. There's a whole summer in front of us, Ponyboy! Got any plans?"

I shrugged. "Not exactly. Evan Peters said I could go with him and his family to his lake house out in Sand Springs for a couple days."

"Yeah? He's a friend?"

I mean, I guess he was. I liked him well enough. "Yeah," I said, hoping I sounded confident. "I don't know if I'll go, though."

"Shoot, why not? All you gotta do is get Darry to OK it, and if he's bein' a jerk about it, we could work on 'im."

"I just don't know if I wanna."

"Oh, you gotta do _somethin'_ with yourself this summer, Pony. And you can't just read all the books in the library," he added, sticking a finger my face. I grinned sheepishly, and my ears got hot. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I'mma make sure you have a good summer. _Damn_ sure."

"If that's how you wanna spend your time." We'd been so into our conversation that I'd barely noticed how far away from the school we'd gotten. And I hadn't even gotten a chance to take one last look! "Go for it, I guess. You got any plans of your own?"

Two-Bit smirked. "Hell yeah, I do. My summer's got Bee Stevens written _all_ over it."

XXXXX

Two-Bit had to stop by his place first, but he dropped me off at home. I wasn't expecting anybody to be there. Darry and Sodapop both had work. It wasn't like I wasn't used to being home alone. It happened all the time. At least, it happened all the time _these_ days. Back in the day, Johnny would have come over, maybe even Dallas, and we might go do something. Or maybe we'd just watch TV. I don't care what we would do, it would just be nice if I didn't have to spend all this time alone. You know what I mean?

I let the screen door slam behind me and I set my theme and my yearbook on the coffee table. Then I kicked my shoes off and sat right down in front of the TV and turned it on, flipping through the channels to find something. _Bonanza_ reruns. Fine enough. Then I got up and headed for the kitchen to get something to eat. I was just opening up the fridge when the back door opened up. I was expecting Steve or Two-Bit, but instead –

"Oh, hey, Ponyboy. Didn't hear ya come in."

I jumped. "Darry!" I yelped. "Why're you here?"

He shrugged, looking a little amused. "Home early," he said.

"You left work _early?"_ I asked, disbelieving. Darry looked at me funny.

"Well, yeah. It's the last day of school, and I thought…well, I thought it might be nice if someone were here when you got home."

I attempted to raise an eyebrow so I could convey my confusion to him, but that wasn't working out, so I just said, "They let you do that?"

Darry shrugged. "Well, I may've told a little white lie…" He trailed off and cut his eyes to mine. "Anyways, I'm here. How was it?"

"Fine," I said, still confused by the whole thing, but I decided it would probably be better not to ask any more questions. "Kinda pointless. I only had one final."

"How'd you do on it?" He asked more seriously.

"Fine," I said again, hoping he'd buy it and just drop the subject. When he kept staring at me, I said, "I got my yearbook, if you wanna take a look. There's a whole page in there dedicated to you!"

Darry gave me a wry look. " _Right_. Yeah, I'd like to see it. Wanna see the football pictures…" He trailed off and headed for the living room. I sighed and grabbed a Pepsi and a ham-and-cheese sandwich and sat back right down in front of the TV to see what Hoss and his boys were up to today. Darry and I sat in a comfortable silence, me watching TV and him going through my yearbook. Sometimes he'd say something about a teacher he either loved or hated, or ask me what the play was that year and why didn't I go because Darry went to things _all the time_ , and why don't I go out for football? I was too worn out to really respond, so I just shrugged or nodded or grunted. Look, Darry's great and all, but I don't always want to have a conversation with him.

"Hey," someone called, and I knew it was Two-Bit.

"Hey," Darry said back. "Did your sister get home?"

"Naw, shipped her off to the circus this morning."

"Good."

Two-Bit laughed. "Yeah, she got home. I had to wait for Mom to get back before I came here, though. That Pony's? You see what I wrote?"

I wished I'd put something on my sandwich like mustard or mayo. It was kinda dry, but it tasted fine. With Two-Bit here now, we just had to wait on Sodapop and Steve. Darry and Two-Bit pretty much ignored me. I guess they figured I'd given them all I had to give for the time being. Two-Bit kept pointing out stuff in the yearbook, and Darry would ask questions. They started on hunts for the ugliest girl, funniest school picture, best candid. Darry sure does have a whole lot more fun with Two-Bit than he does with me. But maybe that's my fault.

"Lookit Kathy, man. She looks halfway decent in this picture, don't she?"

"Yeah, I guess she does."

I put my plate in the sink and drained the rest of my Pepsi. I cleaned out the bottle. It'd be good for holding flowers, but the guys would probably tease me for that, say it was too girly. They're probably right. So I put it in the trash. When I went back out to the living room, Darry looked up.

"What's the thing on the coffee table?" He asked.

"What thing?"

He rolled his eyes. Two-Bit laughed and mumbled _smartass_ to Darry. "The notebooks."

"Oh. They're nothin'. Just notes from the year."

Darry's mouth formed an 'o'. Guess he had bought it. "Can I look?" I asked. "It is my book."

"Here, kid, just lookit mine," Two-Bit said distractedly. I hadn't even noticed he'd brought it over. I sat in Darry's chair and started at the very beginning of the book. The first section was a "year in review." The top song of the year was "I'm a Believer" – gotta love The Monkees. There was something about that crazy Paul McCartney conspiracy. The Orioles won the World Series. People under twenty-five were _Time's_ Man of the Year. There was that whole "bigger than Jesus" thing. Actually, there was a lot about The Beatles and music in here. Speaking of _Bonanza_ , it was the hit show of the year. Twister was the hot Christmas present apparently, _The Sound of Music_ won best picture, and the war in Vietnam still raged. Tell us something we don't know!

After a few pages of candids, there were the staff and faculty pictures. I kinda skimmed through those. Mr. Syme's picture was pretty typical. He was really the only teacher who I wanted to find. Principal Vernon's was really corny, though. Then there were a few more pages of candids. Then they had all the senior pictures. There was a little cross next to Bob Sheldon's name underneath his portrait. My chest tightened just briefly when I saw that. Most of the people I knew or were friends with were juniors. There was Evie Martin and Two-Bit and Steve. On one of the 'S' pages, there was a heart next to Bridget Stevens' name, and in girly writing was the message _I've reserved the entire inside back cover for myself. Xoxo._ I'd have to check that out once I got there. I tried hard not think about how Sodapop's picture should've been in there. Instead, I thought about how Steve and Two-Bit actually cleaned up decently. I found a picture of Cherry Valance. She was still a looker, that was for sure. I got to the sophomores next. There was a cross next to Johnny's name, but I really quickly skimmed over that. Heck, I skipped pretty much the entire sophomore class. I paid a little more attention to the freshman class and grimaced at my picture, even though it probably wasn't even that bad. I knew almost everybody, I realized. Some of my friends had some pretty unfortunate pictures, too. And some of the girls were pretty cute. Not Cherry Valance cute yet, but still. But I didn't really want to date yet or anything.

All the extracurriculars were last. I found the football pictures, and there was Bob Sheldon again, and all his buddies. There were some pictures of the cheerleaders. Candids of all of them in action. The basketball team, the swim team, the tennis team, the cross country team, the baseball team. I wonder if Two-Bit ever missed baseball. If he was wondering of going for it in his last year. I bet he could whip 'em all. There were pictures of all the clubs and academic teams. Then there were the band kids, the choir kids, the theatre kids. I saw that girl Two-Bit was into again. She'd been in the play. Heck, she was all over the place. I paid extra close attention to the track pictures. I found myself and a few of my buddies in the team picture. I was in the second row. I was a bit embarrassed to notice I was one of the only ones who had smiled. Then there was a picture of me at the state meet. I'd gotten third in the mile. I guess that's pretty good, considering. Some of the older guys on the team were a bit irritated that they'd lost to me since I'm a freshman, but hey – running is what I do.

I guess I'm not a freshman anymore, actually.

"…figure I'll take some extra shifts, now that school's out. Won't have to hang around Dad too much, either."

"Yeah, I guess he's on summer break, too, ain't he?"

Steve and Sodapop. Steve's dad was a junior high math teacher.

"Hey, y'all," Darry said. He and Two-Bit were still distracted by _my_ yearbook and _Bonanza_. "Soda, don't throw – "

But Sodapop was already in the motion and he threw his hat at the couch, and it hit Darry in the face. The guys thought it was hysterical. Darry didn't. I smirked behind Two-Bit's yearbook.

"Pony, hey!" Sodapop said. "This your yearbook? I wanna see."

I pulled it away. "No! It ain't mine, but I ain't done lookin' at it yet."

"Then whose is it?"

"Mine," Two-Bit piped up. "We're lookin' at his."

"Soda, I got mine."

"You always come through for me, Steve."

So this is what the last day of school looked like. What came after. Sodapop and Steve used to do this, sit around and look through their annuals, and Two-Bit and Darry did, too. Johnny and I would, too, when we were in the same school. Even after he went to high school, he'd let me look at his. I'd always wanted to be up in high school with all of them. It's felt like they've been in high school for my whole life, and that I've always been in kindergarten. And now that I've completed a whole year of it, I can't tell yet if it feels like I made it through at all, or if it even happened. This year sure was weird.

I finally got to the back of the book. Two-Bit sure had gotten a lot of signatures – guess he was a popular guy. I mean, I got a good amount, but he got a lot more than I did. But he seemed to know just about everybody. I bet even people who hated him wanted to sign his. I wondered if Steve got any. I don't know who he likes besides us and Evie, anyways. I was curious about what was written on the back cover and had just gotten a peek at it (" _Well, well, Keith Mathews. Seems you got the girl…")_ when the book was snatched out of my hands, and mine shoved in its place. I looked up and saw Two-Bit grinning down at me with one eyebrow cocked.

"You've seen enough," he said happily.

"Why can't I see it?" I asked, careful not to sound _too_ whiny or Steve might make some smart remark.

"'Cuz I _said so_ ," Two-Bit jabbed a finger in my face. Then he held his behind his back so Darry could grab it.

"Why does Darry get to see it?"

"'Cuz I said he could," Two-Bit said smartly.

"Can I see?" Soda asked.

"Yeah, can we see?" Steve asked, because if Soda got to do something, then so did Steve.

"Sure," Two-Bit shrugged.

The two of them scrambled up to the couch so they could read over Darry's shoulder. Two-Bit smirked, strolling back over to the couch, leaving me alone on my little reclining island. Hypocrites – all of them hypocrites.

XXXXX

I thought I'd want to stay up real late on the first day of summer, or maybe go out, but after dinner, I took my yearbook and my theme back to my room and sat on my bed, spreading everything out in front of me. I had another bottle of Pepsi and a packet of peanuts, and I dumped the peanuts in. Soda thinks that's weird because that's usually something someone does with Cokes, but I like Pepsi better. So the peanuts go in the Pepsi.

I opened up my yearbook, ready to go through it again. Without everybody around, I was able to focus on each candid, look for people I knew, figure out what event each one was taken at. I found a lot of pictures of Cherry – at dances, at cheerleading. She was real popular. My heart sank a bit; I knew logically why she never really said 'hi' to me, and I guess I couldn't blame her, but it still hurt some. Then I thought of Bob Sheldon and Johnny and Randy Adderson and Marcia and even Dallas, and I looked over at my theme. I hadn't read any of Mr. Syme's comments yet. I picked up the first notebook, the one with the A+ on the first page, and started looking through it. I didn't bother to read what _I_ wrote, but I searched for comments. It was really only little things. The first two notebooks didn't really have much, but when I got to the end of the third notebook and the end of the story, I found something.

 _Ponyboy,_

 _Congratulations on writing this. I know that might sound strange, but this is a real accomplishment. I have to admit, I was worried about you for a while there. You were always a good student, and I understand how all of this happening to you affected that. It was more than just the change in your academics that concerned me, though. I think that your writing this is a big step for you. I'm flattered that you told me your story._

 _You're an extremely insightful young man, and what you've gone through is more than anyone should have to go through in a lifetime. So I think that not only are you insightful, you're also very brave for continuing on in the way you are. Unfortunately, not everyone may see it that way, but I want you to know that you're not alone, Ponyboy. It may feel as if you are sometimes, but if you ever feel alone and like there's no one to turn to, you know my extension._

 _Mr. Syme_

I lowered the notebook onto my lap. I looked out the window; it had gotten dark outside. Guess I'd gone and stayed up late anyways.

 _I want you to know that you're not alone, Ponyboy._

I suppose I knew that. I guess it was just nice to read it. But sometimes, it didn't feel as if I weren't alone. Sometimes, I feel like the loneliest person in the world

XXXXX

 **AN: Today was my last day of high school, so it was the last day for the boys, too. Art does imitate life.**

 **I obviously don't own anything – Hinton does. I hope to update this about once a week. Thank you so much for reading! See y'all next time :)**


	2. Floating Like a Vapor

**Author's Note: Big thanks to everyone who reviewed/faved/followed this story so far! Seriously – thank you very, very much.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

I woke up on the first real morning of summer and went right back to sleep.

The next time I woke up, the first thought I had was that Mr. Syme must be wrong, because there was no one in the house, and I was therefore alone. Then my brain reminded me that wasn't what he had meant, and I relaxed. Then I decided that I should probably get up and do something with myself. Like make breakfast. Yeah. My stomach agreed with me that making breakfast would be a good idea.

I got out of bed and went into the kitchen. There was a note on the table from Darry that told me they'd be back at the usual time and to not get into any trouble. I rolled my eyes – what sorta trouble did Darry think I was gonna get into? There weren't any eggs left, so I made some peanut butter toast and grabbed a glass practically overflowing with orange juice and sat right back down in front of the TV and watched the local morning news. What? It was all that was on before the soaps. After that, I decided to skip the shower, but I still checked my face for any signs of a beard. Nothin'. By that point, I was ready to call the whole summer a wash, but then Two-Bit came charging in.

"Fuck, it's hot!" He hollered, slamming the screen door and falling down into Darry's chair.

I came out of the bathroom and stood over him. He still had his sunglasses on. Two-Bit didn't even bother to acknowledge me for a minute there, and I thought he was gonna keep on ignoring me, but then he said, "Kid. Where're yer clothes?"

I glanced down at myself. I was only wearing my underwear. "Not on yet."

Two-Bit snorted. "Well, get dressed. We've got places to be."

"We do?" I asked.

"Yeah, kid. I promised ya I'd stop by, hang out with your nerdy ass. Here I am. Cuz what am I?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're a man of your – "

"I'm a man of my word," he finished with me. "That's right. Say, you got anything to eat around here?" I gestured to my toast, and Two-Bit looked disappointed. "Well, you got any more OJ at least?" We did, and he found it, and drank it right from the jug. I'd be sure to tell on him for that later. Darry would probably get annoyed with him, and that would be funny to watch.

"That's gross," I told him.

"No it's not." And that was that. "Ya know, I was serious when I told you to get dressed."

Right. Getting dressed. That needed to happen. I made that happen.

Two-Bit was right – it was pretty hot. But it wasn't _that_ hot. We'd have – and have had – hotter days than today. Maybe it was because he was wearing a black shirt. I trailed him as we went over to Crutchfield Park and watched some guys play ball for a bit, then after that we headed for a diner that was close by, and relished their AC. We ordered a couple Pepsis, and Two-Bit watched on in amusement as I drained mine in almost one go.

"Impressive," he noted. "Think you can handle another?" I nodded. Two-Bit waved down the waitress and she filled me back up.

"Well, kid," Two-Bit sighed, "looks like it's you an' me this summer, bucko."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Mmhmm," he nodded. "Yup. I mean, with your brothers workin' and all. Just durin' the day, though, I'd think. We can still go cruisin' at night, tool around on the weekends," he said. He was smiling, but he sounded a bit wistful. "Oh, Pony. How things have changed."

He didn't need to tell me. I knew that things were different now. We all did. "I mean, just this mornin'," he continued as he cleaned off his sunglasses, "I found myself on the west side of town. You ever heard of such of thing?"

"You were there because…?"

Two-Bit smirked. "Had to see about a girl." He left it at that.

"Musta been up early."

"I was," he said. "And it got me to thinkin', ya know? Which ain't ever a good thing, but it happened anyways. So I was thinkin', ya know, 'bout how yer brothers are workin' and Steve's picked up some extra hours and is prolly gonna spend time with Evie and all that, so I was wonderin' what it is I'm s'posed to do with you while I babysit ya all summer."

I scowled. "You ain't babysittin' me," I said, sounding awfully close to pouting. "Ain't you my buddy?"

"I am," he said. "But you're also just a dumbass kid."

"And you're just a dumbass, plain and simple."

Two-Bit laughed in surprise. "Goddamn, kid. You oughta watch that mouth of yours, or you'll get yerself into some serious trouble. I'm tellin' ya. Anyways, what I'm gettin' at is that I am at the mercy of your whims, Ponyboy Curtis. I ain't got any plans, so whatever you wanna do, we'll do."

This was already too much freedom. I guess that was when I had realized, for the very first time, that I didn't really give myself that much to look forward to. Maybe that was because I didn't come from a family that planned things to look forward to in the first place. We took what good we could get, whether it came in the form of a day at the state fair, or at the ball diamond or the river; a drive out on the town with the windows rolled down so the wind whipped through our hair and we had to scream to hear each other; our favorite breakfast (and not just the usual – I mean the sheer joy on Sodapop's face when he gets to have bacon and grits, even though that's no normal person's idea of a dream breakfast). It was those little things, but they were never planned for. They just…happened. So, I had nothing.

"Whatever I want?" I repeated, knowing I sounded stupid. Two-Bit nodded.

"Sure," he shrugged. "Like, right now – if you could do anything, what would you do? Keep in mind, I'm sorta strapped for cash, and so are you. And road trips are a logistical no-no, considerin' yer big brother would kill me and all. But other than that!"

 _If you could do anything, what would you do?_

(I'll tell you what I'd do: I'd go back in time and stop my parents from leaving home that night. If that doesn't happen, none of the rest of it does.)

I thought about it for a minute. Thing is, I was pretty sure I had seen all of Tulsa; what else could it offer me? Was there anything? What was left to do? What was left to see? I'd been to pretty much all the diners, and Buck's that…that one time. And I'd been to the fairgrounds plenty of times, and to the river. I've been to all the gas stations. I've seen all the East side has to offer!

"I don't know," I said lamely, and Two-Bit shot me a wry smile.

"For a daydreamy kid such as yourself, ya sure do lack some serious imagination when it comes to real world stuff. Must be what keeps ya outta trouble." Then he sorted nodded his head from side to side and added, "Well, most of the time, anyways. C'mon, there must be _some_ thing!"

In the next few seconds I came up with a couple ideas, and I instantly knew that he was going to like one better than the other. "Well. I mean. I've got a couple things."

"And what might they be?"

I smirked into my drink; this could be fun.

XXXXX

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis, I am _lovin'_ this plan of yours."

Funny he said that because the more I thought this through, the more nervous I got. What made me think of this? What part of me thought this was a good idea? This was a horrible idea! I looked at what Two-Bit and I were wearing; him in his T-shirt and boots and sunglasses; me in my Converse and hand-me-down shirt. People would know we were out of place as soon as they saw us.

"I've never been to one'a these before." Two-Bit dropped his cigarette butt on the sidewalk and snuffed it out. I cringed.

"Everyone's gonna look at us weird," I mumbled as we made our way up the walk to the front door.

"So? 'Sides – this was your idea, remember. We're all-in now, bucko, so saddle up!"

When Two-Bit had mentioned he'd been on the west side that morning, it gave me an idea. See, there are always houses for sale on this side of the tracks, and all these open houses. That's what Darry told me. He said that some people buy houses they shouldn't be buying, and then they have to move. He'd also tossed around terms like "house poor", but I have no idea what that means. Anyways, I've never been in a house that nice, so I figured it could be interesting to see one. Two-Bit had immediately jumped on the idea, which should have been an immediate red flag. I'd willingly handed him an opportunity to embarrass me. Fantastic. This was going to be at least a hundred times worse than the time in that church.

"Are you going to embarrass me?" I asked, sounding all stupid again. Two-Bit peered over his sunglasses and grinned.

"Am I going to _embarrass_ you? Shit, kid, you can count on it!"

Great.

Well-dressed people were filing in and out of a large brick house that had more windows than I had pairs of underwear. We got a few looks, but most of the people ignored us. Most of them seemed to be couples. And I knew for a fact that they all had more money than either of us. Just inside the house – which was a lot cooler than it was outside or at my house – there was who I suppose was the realtor standing right by the door. As soon as he saw us, the friendly expression he had directed towards the people who had come before us instantly melted. I glanced up at Two-Bit; he seemed to take the man's disgruntlement as a comedic window, which should have been my signal to get the heck outta there.

" _Gracious,_ it is swelterin' out there!" Two-Bit proclaimed, sounding like some sort of dandy. He was out to embarrass me, sure, but I couldn't help but be impressed – he sure was good at doing voices. Though, I'm not so sure ' _genteel southern gentleman background extra number four_ ' was exactly a stretch for him.

"Can I help either of you?" The realtor asked.

"Can I help either of you, _sir_ ," Two-Bit corrected, lighting up. "And you might be able to, though I'm not exactly what you would call _optimistic_ after the positively _trying_ day we've had."

I wanted to crawl under the floorboards and die. However, I also wanted to see how this would play out; see my dilemma?

The realtor cleared his throat. "And what did you say your names were?"

"PM Curtis," he said, gesturing to me, "and KD Mathews. Like Barnum and Bailey, but with more bearded ladies and less midgets."

"And what, exactly, do you think you're doing here?"

Two-Bit blatantly misread his question. "Well, here's what I'm looking for." Two-Bit took another drag off his cigarette, and crossed his other arm over his chest and started waving around his smoke with the other. Then he started up again in a voice that sounded _nothing_ like his. "I need a full service kitchen and a dinin' room large enough for…say…fifty? I like ta entertain." Another drag and wave of his cigarette. "And seven bedrooms at _least_ – I've got a large family, you see." The realtor was getting really fed up. "Oh. And a pool."

This performance is what I suspect dinner theater must be like. You've got someone as ridiculous as Two-Bit – maybe even _more_ ridiculous than Two-Bit – walking around like a dumbass, doing stupid voices. Problem is, I thought it was pretty funny to watch him put on this show while the vein in the realtor's forehead started to throb. " _Sir_ ," the realtor said through grit teeth, trying to keep some sort of control, "this showing is for prospective buyers only."

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Well, _sir_ ," he drawled, still sounding like a dandy, "if I may, I'd suggest you ought not to judge prospective buyers by their appearance."

"First impressions matter, Mr. Mathews," the realtor bit back, and my eyes continued to ping pong back and forth as their conversation unraveled. Two-Bit looked like he could barely contain himself and he was about to start busting out laughing at any moment; doing that ridiculous voice couldn't have helped.

"Yes, they certainly do." Two-Bit took one last long drag off his cigarette and then snubbed it out in the dirt of the houseplant on an end table. The realtor was seething.

"I should ask you to leave."

"Should, but we won't listen even if ya do. Come along, Ponykid! We've got a house to snoop through!"

Two-Bit grabbed me by the shoulder and led me past the realtor – who we never even learned the name of, which today left me feeling odd – and wound me through the house. Two-Bit wasn't even looking, though, because he was laughing so hard he was crying. I just shook my head; I don't see why that realtor didn't come tearing after us after that display. Since he didn't, I actually looked around while Two-Bit collected himself, noticing that this was the size of kitchen that could hold five people comfortably, with space leftover. There was a backdoor out onto a porch; I overheard a woman in the dining room remark that it would be perfect for _the help_ to go in and out of, and not disturb everyone else. I gave her a cool stare as we walked by her on our way upstairs, but she didn't see. And then when we got upstairs, there really was almost seven bedrooms, and something like a study or a library or something. I'd like a library. I'd like that a lot.

"You're being awful quiet over there. Well, more quiet than your usual quiet," Two-Bit amended. "Was it my dazzling performance that stunned ya into silence, or was it somethin' else?"

I shook my head. "Just thinkin'."

"You're always _just thinkin'_. 'Bout anything particular?"

I pulled a book off one of the shelves, which I probably wasn't supposed to do, but whatever. We were already doing enough of what we weren't s'posed to just by being here. I flipped the book – _Catch-22_ – open to a random page. ( _'"Where were you born?" "On a battlefield," Yossarian answered. "No, no. In what state were you born?" "In a state of innocence."_ ') I hadn't read this one yet. I had no clue who Yossarian was. I had no idea what this book was about. But I liked it already.

"Does anyone ever really need this much space, ya think?" I asked. Two-Bit shrugged.

"Maybe. Maybe if there's a big family, maybe they do. Maybe. Shit, I dunno. Don't think anybody needs this much junk…speakin' of…whatcha got there?" I flashed him the cover. "Ah. You read that one already?"

"No."

Two-Bit raised a surprised eyebrow. "Really. Well…" He made a _gimme_ gesture. "We could remedy that."

"Two-Bit, it ain't mine," I whispered.

"They ain't gonna miss it. C'mon, hand it over." I surprised myself and did as he said. Two-Bit was the master of this sort of stuff, after all. "Let's get outta here – we can go out the back door."

XXXXX

"This is the other thing? _Really?_ Just when I think you're gettin' to be fun, you do this to me."

"Hey – at least it's not the library."

Two-Bit was probably glaring at me from behind his sunglasses. Those sure do make him a bit harder to read. A bit. He just threw up his hands and followed me into the pet store. Johnny and I used to stop in here sometimes; I liked the dogs, he liked the fish, we both liked the cats. We could take or leave the birds. Same for the rodents and the weird pets, like snakes and tarantulas. Two-Bit was stood in front of a tank with a snake in it, grimacing.

"Sure you don't wanna see a flick?" He asked, and I just snorted, trying not to laugh at him.

"I haven't even got to see the puppies yet," I said, and Two-Bit snapped and pointed at me.

"Yeah – dogs. Those. Let's look at some normal animals, yeah?"

So I looked at the so-called normal animals while Two-Bit talked to the guy behind the counter ( _"So you're tellin' me that people actually come in here an' buy those things?" "Yessuh." "They actually come in here and buy snakes and – and spiders?" "Yessuh." "…You get that a lot?" "Yessuh."_ ) Two-Bit couldn't quite seem to fathom it; though, seems to me there's a lot he can't fathom – or, more like he chooses to disbelieve something just so he doesn't have to face it. _Whatever will be, will be_. But I guess I can understand. We all had our ways. I mean, it took me a long time for me to accept that I wasn't the one who killed Bob after Johnny and Dallas had died. We just all have our own ways.

"Seems that one likes you, kid."

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow and nodded to the yellow lab puppy nudging my hand, and I smirked down at it and gave it a little wave. We used to have a dog, a long while ago, one that looked a bit like this guy here. He was a good dog, like most of 'em are, and lived a fairly long while before he got in some sort of fight with a wild animal and we had to put him down. I remember when Dad found him, all bloodied up. He carried him home, and his blood got all over his shirt. And I guess that was the first time it registered with me that all living things have to die.

"Maybe," I said. "You think Darry would ever let us get another one?"

"Can't say. Guess you'd hafta ask." I already knew his answer would probably be a no. Darry had enough to take care of as is. "C'mon – we should git. I could use another Pepsi, I think."

XXXXX

We took the bus home. Being on buses reminded me a little too much of the incident in the fall, after we'd visited Johnny and Dallas at the hospital and Two-Bit found out I was sick, and then he said that the only thing keeping Darry from being a soc was us. He wouldn't listen to me, about how I knew something bad was gonna happen that night. But even though he tried to ignore it, the bad things happened anyway. It's one of Two-Bit's many talents that we tend to oversee: he thinks he can ignore a problem into oblivion. That as long as he don't acknowledge it, it can't hurt any of us.

I think doing that makes them hurt worse.

I'd gotten another Pepsi and was sitting in my bus seat, alternating between drinking and blowing bubbles while Two-Bit sat next to me, grumbling about how he wished he'd remembered to pick up some more cigarettes. A smoke sounded nice right about now. That was another thing: for some odd reason, Darry had told me to stop calling cigarettes "weeds." I'd thought it was a sort of funny request, but I'd just shrugged it off.

"A kid your brothers and I went to school with died my sophomore year, ya know."

I looked over at Two-Bit and stopped drinking, the straw still in my mouth. He wasn't exactly a heart-to-heart kind of guy, but he could surprise you. He'd said it casual-like, like it was no big deal. But people dying _was_ a big deal. There were guys who had gone to Will Rogers who had gone over to fight in Vietnam and _died_. Or they'd come back different. And it was only a matter of time before…

"I didn't know that," I said softly. "What happened?"

Two-Bit narrowed his eyebrows. "I think she was sick with somethin'." He said it the way someone might say _I think it's going to rain_ ; the way you'd say something totally mundane. Then it struck me that this time, it was a she, not a he. That fact made it even weirder for some reason. "It just sorta happened. Sometimes it…just happens."

"Yeah."

"And it wasn't like they made some huge deal out of it or anything. The Earth didn't stand still. Hate to say it, but I guess in the grand scheme…it was pretty unimportant."

"Did you know her?"

"Not exactly," Two-Bit shook his head. "I'd seen her around. But she was just a girl. I didn't know nothin' about her."

I couldn't figure out why Two-Bit had brought this up. Like I said, he isn't really a heart-to-heart sort of guy that's gonna sit with you and talk about feelings and stuff. Two-Bit's just not like that, and he never has been. Not even when he was younger. I mean, I was pretty little when I met him – he and Darry have known each other since the turn of the last century or something – and even then nothing ever seemed to really get to him. Like I said in my theme, guys like him didn't cry, as if they'd forgotten how. Darry had told me that he had come over after Dallas and Johnny had…died…and that he had been crying then, but I'm not so sure I believe him.

"Why're you thinking about her now?"

Two-Bit sighed and leaned back in his seat. "I don't know. I think I was just…shoot, I don't know. Sometimes these things just pop into yer head and grab hold, and they don't let go."

I bit on my straw. I _hate_ when my friends and brothers get all introspective. I absolutely hate it. It doesn't feel normal. "Why don't they?"

Since he was sitting so I could see him in profile, I could tell when he glanced over at me real quick from behind his sunglasses. "I guess because I just never really considered 'er before. I mean, a girl like that…she dies, nothing really changes 'cept for the people who really knew her. It's just funny how that works."

I knew he didn't mean _ha-ha_ funny, but the kind of funny feeling that kinda settles in your stomach and makes breathing feel weird. "Have you considered…with your dad, and all…"

Two-Bit's old man had killed himself in the spring. Some guy had been looking for him for whatever reason – even showed up on our front porch one day. It really has been a weird year. Weird, as in awful. "I couldn't care less about him dyin'. Considered it plenty." He paused. "Ya know what I think made me think of her?"

"What?"

"Going through the yearbook. Cuz I noticed what they put next to Johnny and that Sheldon kid's names, that little cross. She had one next to hers. I could show it to you, prolly. Or any of us, cuz Steve and Soda were freshmen." He stopped talking all of a sudden so he could stand and pull the cord, and then the bus stopped and we were getting off and walking towards my house.

"I didn't mean to bring you down, or anything," Two-Bit said on the walk. "I was just thinkin' about it, and you know how I am – thought crosses my mind, tumbles outta my mouth." He grinned easily. I tossed my straw, deciding to keep this bottle. Maybe for flowers. Probably for pencils.

"It's okay."

"If you say it is."

The sun was just going down when we got back. Darry and Soda were home, and we could see Steve making his way to come in the backdoor as we rounded the corner. Two-Bit called out to him, and he flicked us a wave and pointed to the house, his meaning clear: we'd see him inside. I stayed on the porch for another couple minutes, watching the color of the sky change from a grainy, white-ish blue to pink and yellow, until finally the world was cast under a purplish dusk, the glow now coming from the streetlamps and the moon. I tore myself away and went inside, where Two-Bit was regaling Steve and my brothers with tales from the west side.

"…shoulda seen this fuckhead's face! Moment he saw me, he knew he was in for it."

"Well, he got a taste of what the rest of us have to put up with every day," Steve said, and Two-Bit flipped him off.

"Hey, Pony," Soda called, being the first one to notice I'd come in. Nobody else looked up. Guess my entrance wasn't anything special. "Hungry?"

"I could eat," I shrugged.

"Darrel, you need to reimburse me for all the Pepsis I bought this kid today," Two-Bit called into the kitchen.

"Good luck, then, cuz I ain't got that kind of money," Darry called back, and everyone seemed to think that was funny. I guess that's nice for Darry – he deserves a few laughs every now and then.

"Steve's stayin', Two-Bit. You in?" Sodapop asked, referring to dinner. Two-Bit thought about it for a moment, alternating the raising of his eyebrows.

"Nah," he finally said, "I should prolly head home. Touch base. See y'all tomorrow." We said our goodbyes, and Two-Bit left, the screen door slamming behind him. Darry rolled his eyes but didn't say anything, just sat down and started inspecting the meal Soda had prepared.

"Jesus, Soda…mashed potatoes ain't s'posed to be purple," he complained, glaring at the spoonful he had held in front of his face. Soda shrugged happily.

"Who says they gotta be white?"

"God, that's who," Darry grumbled, but he ate them anyway. He always eats them anyway. "Pony, were you the one who finished off the orange juice?"

I shook my head. "Two-Bit did." _God, I'm such a narc._ Darry rolled his eyes again. If he and Two-Bit weren't such good buddies, I'm pretty sure he'd have banned him from ever entering our house ever again for all the food of ours he eats. Mostly, he just finishes six packs and kills cartons of OJ.

"Speakin' of," Steve jumped in, "Sodapop, he and I are doublin' up Saturday night. You in?"

Soda briefly glanced over at Steve, and then back to his food. Darry and I made brief eye contact, both knowing where this was going. He hadn't really been on a date since Sandy left. I guess that whole situation had been real hard on him (well, that's not even a guess – I know it was). He still flirted and could probably get a date with any girl he wanted, but he chose not to, stopping just short and always coming up with an excuse.

"Well, I mean, I don't got a date," Soda shrugged, playing it off casually. But Steve shook his head.

"That's fine. It ain't a serious thing. C'mon, you and the girls can talk about your hair!" Steve laughed, and that got Soda to grin a bit and run a hand through his wheat-gold waves.

"Yeah, well, we all know Evie gets all her secrets from me," he joked, and I almost laughed hard enough to spit my food across the table; because obviously, if there's one thing that's funny, it's the idea of girls listening to guys. I choked it back down and Steve side-eyed me.

"Well," he sighed, sliding his eyes back over, "come along if you want to. It'd be fun."

"Two-Bit's takin' that new girl?" Darry asked. Steve nodded.

"Yeah. She's got good legs," Steve surmised. "But she's _too_ nice."

"Nothin' wrong with bein' nice, Steven!" Soda sang. "If there were, ya wouldn't keep me around."

Steve snorted and chucked Soda's shoulder, but his eyes told me there was some real truth to that.

XXXXX

 **AN: I still don't own anything you recognize!**

 **Thank you for reading :)**


	3. The Brothers Read the Theme

**Author's Note: This chapter gets a little meta, so beware. And I still don't own anything!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

Mrs. Locklear smiled at me as she passed me the books I'd checked out. She was easily my favorite of all the librarians, at the public one and the one at school. She understood what I meant by the power you feel when you have a library card; suddenly, the entire world is at your fingertips. The entire history of the world. She was middle-aged, but she dressed older. She dressed like a mom.

"Here you are, sweetie," she said. "Looks like you've got a busy couple weeks on your hands." She winked, and I couldn't help but grin – she knew I'd get through them quickly.

"Looks like I do," I agreed. _Of Mice and Men,_ a classic, and then a couple new ones from last year: _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead_ and _In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash_. Mrs. Locklear said that I might need to read _Hamlet_ to understand the second book, so I picked up that, too. Wasn't like we had the _Complete Pelican_ lying around our house. Then she said that the third was a humor book. I didn't read much of those, but Mrs. Locklear is always showing me new arrivals, so I figured I'd give it a try. That's all you can do, right?

"You know, Ponyboy, you read so much, I'm surprised you don't write stories of your own," Mrs. Locklear said. "Or poems, perhaps? You are just _so_ well-read already. You _must_ have ideas floating around in that big brain of yours."

I could feel my ears heat up at the indirect compliment. When people compliment Sodapop, or Two-Bit, they're always quick to acknowledge, maybe make a joke. I'm not quite so forward. "Well, I dunno. I guess I've never really thought about it before. Writing's pretty hard…."

"It is," she shrugged. "But if you ever want to try it out, you've got a quiet place to work right here."

I glanced around the building. I still vividly remember the day that Dad brought me here to get my own library card. I was pretty young then, but I still can remember his heavy hand on my shoulder, the fall air nipping at us, the smell of his cheap cologne and cigarette mixing together along with that unmistakable library smell. I can't really remember his face, but I remember every little feeling. The library looked the same then as it does now, but things have changed – me, mainly. Mrs. Locklear has been here the entire time, and pretty much all the other librarians. I am the only thing changing in a world of constants.

"It is," I agreed. "It's a good place to do homework, at the very least."

"Oh, it most certainly is. Anything else I can help you with today, sweetie?"

I shook my head. "No, I think I'm good. Thanks again, Mrs. Locklear."

She waved goodbye, and I headed outside. It was one of those bearable summer days, where the incoming storms block out the sun and kick up a good breeze, which carries on it the scent of newly mowed lawns and that very specific smell that hangs in the air right before it rains. So it was humid, but bearable. More than bearable, actually. I know the other day when Two-Bit and I were tooling around I said that I'd seen all the east side has to offer. That's probably true. And I'm not so sure I need to see any more of the west side than I did the other day. But on days like this, being in Tulsa is…it's okay. More than okay. As I made my way home from the library, there was an electricity in the air that was due to more than just the heat lightning. The eerie glow that was cast across this dusty cityscape somehow seemed to be the perfect lighting for a place like this, in all its art deco, cowboy glory. It was like two different worlds were raging against each other, and you could see it in the architecture and the dust in the streets, all illuminated in the eerie early afternoon sun.

"Woah, kid – watch out!"

I stopped just short of running into some guy in funky looking jeans. I felt my face get hot, and I could just hear Darry's voice in my head, telling me to _use my head_ and _look out_ and _why can't you walk down the sidewalk like a normal person? What's so interestin' down there that you gotta be starin' down at it the whole time?_ You'd think having a near-constant running monologue of Darry's complaints running through my head might actually be helpful, but it proves to be more annoying than anything.

"Sorry," I mumbled, making sure my books were okay even though I hadn't dropped them. They were library books, after all.

"Close call," the guy grinned. "No worries, kid."

And then he did a funny thing: he flashed me a peace sign and went on his way. I could envision the confused look on Darry's face, but Sodapop probably smiling and reciprocating.

I returned the gesture, but his back was already turned.

XXXXX

We'd settled into a rhythm in the first couple weeks of summer. Darry and Soda would go to work, usually before I got up, and Steve had picked up some more hours, so he was usually with Sodapop. I could hear all of their commotion early in the morning, but I usually just tuned them out if I was sleeping, or would let them buzz around me as I sat on the couch, watching TV or listening to the agricultural report on the radio. Mornings and evenings were the coolest times of day, and when I was up, I liked to go outside and watch the sun rise – alone, of course, because no one else in the gang would ever want to join me. And then eventually I'd eat breakfast, which was usually a gigantic bowl of cereal with (probably) too much milk. Because it was easy. And then, eventually, Two-Bit would show up, and maybe watch TV or listen to the agricultural report on the radio with me for a few minutes, and then the day would begin. We'd go off and do something, usually something stupid, then come back in the evening when everybody was back.

Then we'd repeat the process all over again.

That was what the first two weeks of summer looked like.

But that was before they all betrayed me.

XXXXX

It all started with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Actually, it all started with Sodapop and Steve and a trip to the DX, but I thought it would sound cooler to say, _"It all started with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern_ " than with my brother and his stupid best friend. But, I mean, it sorta started with them. In a way. I was at the DX one day around lunchtime, library book under my arm (the one about the aforementioned Rosencrantz and Guildenstern) ( _aforementioned_ was one of our Words of the Week in English this past year), hoping to get into some air conditioning, and I hadn't really gotten to see much of either brother by this point in the summer, really only on weekends. I could take or leave Steve, though.

"You sure you wanna be readin' a library book in a gas station?" Soda asked.

"Where else am I gonna read it?"

Soda huffed. "Alright, but I ain't gonna be the one to pay for it if it gets damaged…" I just rolled my eyes. _Whatever_. He could be as bad a nag as Darry sometimes. "Two-Bit ditch ya today?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Had to _see about a girl._ "

Had to see about a girl. _Pfft_. And leave me all alone. Typical. Something fell to the concrete floor back in the shop, and Soda and I both turned to see a swearing Steve Randle come back up front. He raised his eyebrows. "What? Got somethin' on my face?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Soda chuckled. "Here." Soda handed him a rag, which sorta helped in cleaning him off. Steve narrowed his eyes at the notecard I had lying on the counter, and picked it up.

"Hey!" I barked. "That's mine!"

"Oh, really?" Steve shot back, smirking. He read it: _"'This above all: To thine own self be true_.' Ah, _Hamlet_."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You've read _Hamlet_?"

Steve looked a little offended. Soda shook his head, probably recognizing that we were about to get into something – that something being an argument of some sort. "Yeah, kid. It's eleventh grade English. Two-Bit prolly knows it like the back of his hand! What'd you write this down for?"

I shrugged, feeling sheepish and a bit silly. "Well, I had to read _Hamlet_ to understand this book" – I held it up – "and I just…liked it? So I wrote it on a notecard and turned it into a bookmark?" And now Steve had gotten a smudge on it! _Great!_

"Rosencrantz and Guildenstern," Soda read slowly from the cover of my book. "Who're they?"

"They're from _Hamlet_ ," I mumbled, not really wanting to talk anymore. "Any more questions?"

Soda looked like he wanted to laugh at me pretty bad, but he had the decency to hold back. He knows I get enough of it from the rest of the guys. Steve, however, isn't so reserved. "Ah, Ponyboy, you big sourpuss," he drawled, hissing on _sourpuss_. I rolled my eyes.

"Can I change the station?" I asked, hoping to just change the subject. I don't know why I was being so sensitive, but I was. Honestly, even I was sorta annoyed by it.

Soda gestured to the radio, "Go ahead," and then headed back into the shop with Steve. I hopped the counter, making sure my book and now-smudged bookmark were safe and secure, and waltzed over to the radio and started fiddling with it. It took a while to find something I liked. It was too hot for Elvis; The Supremes were too girly; I felt like Aretha Franklin was yelling at me; guess we were stuck with Herb Albert. I guess that was fine – I wanted to see _Casino Royale_ anyway. Maybe we'd get lucky with the next song.

I grabbed my book and bookmark again, settling back on the stool Soda had been sitting on earlier, hoping that no one would come in cuz I sure wouldn't be able to help them. I tried to refocus on the words, but Sodapop and Steve were having a _very_ interesting conversation, and having it probably much too loud.

 _"We're goin' out again Friday night."_

 _"Oh yeah? Sounds fun."_

 _"It will be. Say, Evie knows this gal – comes into her mom's place to get her nails done, like, every other week. Eve thinks you might like her."_

 _"Why? Cuz she's got great fingernails?"_

 _"Nah, man…she just thinks ya might wanna give her a try. Says she's nice."_

 _"I dunno, Stevie."_

A sigh _. "You gotta get back out there at some point, ya know. I say give it a shot_."

I heard the _snap_ of cloth being flung. " _And I say I ain't ready._ "

I was a bit surprised by his tone. We all knew this was a pretty touchy subject for him, but I figured that Steve at the very least would be able to get through to him. And who knows – maybe he will someday. I sure hope so. It was weird to think of my happy-go-lucky flirt of a brother not wanting to go on dates and do all that romantic stuff. I was sick and tired of things feeling weird and off-balance. I was getting the feeling that everyone else felt that way, too.

XXXXX

Soda and Steve gave me a lift home. Steve decided to hang around, at least through dinner. And then, of course, Two-Bit showed up even though he has his own family he could be spending time with. So the gang was all here. Darry was working on dinner in the kitchen, and Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit were trying to teach me how to play _Oklahoma_ poker, which was somehow different from regular poker. I really wasn't much of a cards player; I knew how to play poker and regular gin rummy (not Oklahoma Gin) and some weird game from the Midwest called Euchre that Steve had showed us, but I wasn't very good at any of them. I knew how to be good in theory, but not so much in practice. And even when my brothers and friends weren't cheating, they were still really good at all of them.

"Kid, it's just five card stud," Steve sighed, clearly getting fed up with me.

"It's not just _five card stud_ ," Two-Bit said disdainfully. "It's a bit different."

"But not _that_ different."

"Back off, Stevie," Soda said, waving him off.

So far, all I could tell was that we were using the full deck, but no jokers, and that in this version of the game, lowest hand wins, but I really wasn't that good at the strategy. And I didn't exactly have the best poker face, either. Luckily, though, we were just playing a practice hand, which meant that Soda kept looking at my cards.

"Looks like there's some beginner's luck here," he grinned. "Okay, so you have an ace-five straight – twos are wild, 'member – and that's good."

"It is good," Steve snarked, looking down at his own hand. He didn't always have the best poker face, either. And neither did Soda. And when he was drunk, neither did Two-Bit. So I guess Steve wasn't too happy with his hand.

"Alright, so we know Steve's got shit, and so do I," Soda laughed, "so, Two-Bit, what ya got?"

Two-Bit flashed his hand to me and then smirked, though I didn't get why at first. "Ace-five, suited."

I looked at Soda. "Does that mean I lose?"

"That means ya lose."

Two-Bit cackled and collected the ante, which added up to four cigarettes. "Don't worry, kid – you'll get better with time. I m'self have been playin' a long time."

I rolled my eyes. "You're eighteen."

"Four years older than you," he bit back. Steve chuckled.

"Man, Pony, I ain't the least bit surprised Johnny wiped you up while y'all were out in Windrixville."

I guess I really shouldn't be surprised that it was Steve in the end who screwed up and accidentally (indirectly) told me, but when it happened, there was still a faint sting of betrayal – or, something like betrayal because it wasn't like I had trusted him not to read it because I hadn't even known he _knew_ about it in the first place. Everybody went dead silent all of a sudden and kept looking between me and Steve, and suddenly, Darry was in the room.

"What're you talking about?" I asked, not liking how my voice was shaking. "How do you know about that?" Two-Bit rolled his eyes.

"Oh, good goin' Randle. You weren't s'posed to tell!"

"Tell what?" My voice was rising, and so was my heartrate. My brothers looked shamefaced and stunned.

"Pony," Soda sighed, "look, nobody meant anything by it – "

"What're you guys talking about?" I asked. Darry still hadn't said anything, which I found surprising. He wasn't as chatty as the rest of them, but he could keep up in a conversation just fine, especially where my dumb ass is concerned.

"Your theme," he finally said, tentative and authoritative all at the same time.

"Wait…" I pointed at my friends and family. " _All_ of you read it?"

At first, none of them said or did anything; there was just an awkward pause. That was honestly answer enough; they all had guilty looks on their faces, and none of them could hold eye contact with me for longer than a second.

"Ponyboy…" Soda tried to start, but I just started shaking my head.

"That wasn't for you guys to see!" I cried. "I…if I had wanted you guys read it, I would have shown it you! When did you all do this?"

There was a lot of sudden, silent communication between the four of them, little glances and shrugs and pointed fingers. Darry cleared his throat and spoke first. "Pony, I…I read it before you ever turned it in."

"And then he showed it to me," Soda said.

"Then me," Two-Bit said sheepishly, raising a hand. Then I glared at Steve, who tried to play innocent, but we both knew it was too late.

"Uh." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah, kid, Soda showed it to me once they were all through with it."

So that was that. They knew everything. My shoulders, previously tensed, now slumped and my arms dangled numbly to my sides. It did strike me as a bit funny that I would share the story with Mr. Syme, my _teacher_ , but it was for his assignment in the first place! It was never really meant for any of them to see. And they'd all read it before I'd even turned it in! Look – I knew they all already knew the story and were all a part of it, but I hadn't been ready to share it with them. Not yet. Maybe not ever, because what would the point be? But the worst part now was that even though they knew the story, they now knew what I _thought_.

"Why did you do that?" I asked. I really sounded confused, even though I didn't really think I was.

Darry immediately went on the defensive, saying, "I'm your brother! And so's Soda, so I showed it to him – "

"Well, yeah, but you showed it to me, too, Dare," Two-Bit reminded him, voice softer than I'd ever heard it. Darry glared at him.

"We're all in it! It's about us, we deserve – "

I'd already had enough of this. While they all started to argue, I stormed off to my room and slammed the door, spotting the drawer the nefarious notebooks were in. For a split second there, I considered getting up and just ripping it all to shreds, every last word. I was so _angry_ , and I couldn't quite explain to myself why. Maybe I felt it was some sort of violation of my privacy, but that didn't seem quite right, or as if that was the only problem here. I started to get a better idea of what else might be bothering me when I heard four pairs of feet – work boots, cowboy boots, and two pairs of Converse All-Stars – thunder down the hall and stop in front of my bedroom door, which I had locked and was now sitting up against. Someone started pounding on the door.

"Pony, let us in!" Soda said, and I heard whispering.

"No!" I shouted. "Go away!"

"Aw, Ponykid, c'mon…we didn't mean nothin'…"

"Ponyboy." The last voice had been Two-Bit's, but this was definitely Darry talking now. I wasn't the least bit surprised to not hear from Steve. "Open up."

"No!" I shouted again. "I mean it, go away!"

"We just have a few questions," Soda tried again, voice calm. "Look, you can stay in there, and we'll just ask through the door. Can we just ask you a few questions? If you let us just ask our questions, we'll leave ya alone."

I took a deep breath and counted to ten, something my mother had told me to do a long time ago when I got frustrated, especially with my brothers and their friends. I closed my eyes tight, feeling them start to sting. I swallowed and cleared my throat as quietly as possible, not wanting to tip any of them off that I was starting to cry some. They were always teasing me, always…they always found ways to pick on me…the four of them especially. They sure were good at making me feel like the runt.

"Well, go on then," I said.

I shouldn't have said that.

I really shouldn't have said that because as soon as I did, they absolutely bombarded me.

 _"You think I treat you like you're six? And what do you mean, I'm not sorry for anything?"_

 _"What the hell did you mean by callin' me 'tacky'?"_

 _"Man, I really can't believe you bought that line 'bout me never drinkin'! And is my spelling really that bad?"_

 _"Hey, I think you should change 'about six feet tall' to 'six-one'…and shoot, maybe I shouldn't'a said that about Johnny…"_

It was all too much. Everything they said ran together in my brain, and it was starting to sink in with me that when you write something, and people read it, they're going to have opinions about it. They're not just going to have questions, which would be bad enough on its own. No, they're gonna have opinions, and they're gonna have _thoughts_ about it. And I realized that I had really made a crappy situation for myself by writing about _them_ , of all people. This was no work of fiction. It was basically one big sob-story of a diary entry, and it felt like they'd just read my diary (which I don't have, so shut up.)

I was so embarrassed. I hadn't been this embarrassed since….

Well, since that time in church.

" _Stop!_ " I shouted. "I changed my mind! No questions!"

There was a beat of silence. I could picture them out there, all looking at each other and sighing quietly, not saying anything but not having to. "Pony, listen…"

But I had stopped listening. While Darry ranted on the other side of the door, I quietly slid out the window.

XXXXX

 **AN: So that chapter title was in _past_ tense. ;)**

 **Thanks for reading, and thanks for all of your support!**


	4. Read the Room

**Author's Note: Sorry this chapter was a little late! This one gave me a bit of trouble (but not any of the chapters coming after, of course – just my luck), and I was finishing up my parts for the last chapter of _God Help the Girls_ , but here it is! Thanks for your patience.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

I guess it's kinda funny that I decided to run away in response to my family reading the story about how I ran away, but it wasn't really the sort of funny that makes you laugh, or that you can appreciate in the moment. It was the kind of funny feeling that struck me as I came to the intersection of Pickett and Sutton. I stopped there, dead on my feet, struck dumb as I stared out at the scene before me. I stared out at the Safeway and probably dissociated for a few minutes.

I know what I said earlier, about Tulsa; about how it isn't always so bad. Now, the sun is slowly setting in the summer night sky, the colors warm to match the temperature; there are cars on the street, suspensions bouncing with the divots, lights on in an almost-dark world, painted bright colors; I can hear a radio playing. As Tulsa grows darker, I realize I'm alone, more alone than last time, and it's scaring me.

It's scaring me.

"Hey, Pony."

I turn around. It's Curly. At least I'm not alone now. I was hanging out with him a lot during the winter, after the New Year. Steve and Two-Bit found me and him keying some guys' car, and they got pretty upset with me, but I kinda started crying and they promised not to tell Darry. But they _did_ make me promise not to hang with Curly anymore, and I'd been keeping to it. I didn't really see what their beef was with him, besides being Tim's kid brother. I really don't know much about what the Shepard Gang does, or what makes them so scary (besides being good in a fight), I just know that they are. Curly is probably one of Tim's right hands by now.

"Hey, Curly," I say, keeping my voice cool. "What's up?"

He shrugged. "Not much, man. What're you doin'? Where's, uh, those friends of yours or whatever?"

I figured it would sound pretty stupid of me to tell him what the real reason was, so I just said, "They were just bein' drags."

Curly laughed. "Yeah, man, I get it. Man, that big brother of yours can be a real drag, I bet. And those buddies of yers can be real goofs sometimes."

I felt my ears start to burn a bit, but I nodded. Because even if I didn't like them right now, that's not really how I felt about them on the whole. Know what I'm saying? This time feels different, even if I am pretty pissed off. "I guess," I mumbled. Because I couldn't say all that to Curly.

"Well, then I guess yer stuck with me, then. Man, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages." Well, Curly, that's because you haven't. "C'mon, let's go have some real fun."

I didn't know what "real fun" was, but it sounded like a good idea to me in the moment, so I followed him down the sidewalk, the two of us just kidding around like we had a few months ago. Curly could never replace Johnny, or even Dallas, but I was quickly reminded of why I liked hanging around with him: he was uncomplicated. He didn't think too much, and I did. I could be someone else when I was with him. He didn't know me in the way anyone else did, and that was a good thing.

We wandered around for a little while, just being aimless, hanging around the Strip and talking to some other guys who I only vaguely knew, but who Curly treated like best friends. We'd snag some too-salty French fries and Pepsis. Look in store windows. Sometimes I'd remember what I'd done just a couple hours before, sneaking out like that, and think about how worried everyone probably was, but then I'd remember that I didn't care.

"Hey, come check this out."

We'd come to a building near the end of the Strip that was tucked back a bit. A bit more dilapidated. Curly led me down an alley, darkening as the sun began to sink. "Wanna show ya somethin'," Curly said, and he rapped on the door. A big burly guy opened it, and gave Curly a single glance and then nodded his head. We followed, but I already had a sorta bad feeling about all of this. Maybe it was the dark. Or the dang smell: the air in the dank building was cloying and thick, smoke and a slightly sweet scent that I didn't recognize. Speaking of not recognizing, I didn't know a guy in the joint. I had gone from having a good time to wanting to bolt.

"You know these people?" I asked Curly.

"Sure," he shrugged. Not exactly a ringing endorsement.

I followed him down another hallway, and we came into another dank room full of people. It looked like a party. I didn't really go to parties; I went out, but I didn't go to parties. What? Sorry if my idea of a good time isn't standing around getting wasted. It's just…boring. But I wanted to pretend for just a little while that I wasn't me, so I went with it.

"Want somethin' to drink?" Curly asked, and I nodded. He handed me a bottle without a label, which seemed odd, so I just…sorta…held it.

"What'd ya wanna show me?" I asked.

"I dunno…this," Curly said lamely, gesturing vaguely to the room, brave enough to take a drink. "Met 'im through Tim. He works with them."

Oh. Okay, then. The five of us hadn't exactly been on good terms with the Shepard gang in a couple months; Two-Bit had beaten Tim out of two-thousand dollars in a poker game, and ever since then, things between us hadn't been the same. Tim was smart, sure, but he was also mean as all get-out. Curly wasn't exactly mean, he was just stupid.

We ended up sitting on a couch that was missing a cushion back (which is of course where I got stuck sitting), watching the party. I talked to one girl for a little while. She was pretty cute, with long blonde hair and a nice smile. But she looked a lot older than me. She was telling me how she planned to go out to California sometime this summer, which I guess sounded nice. Good beaches, I suppose. I'd love to see the ocean someday. I really would.

"You need another drink?" She asked me, even though I hadn't even started in on the one I had. I shook my head.

"Curtis," Curly said from the other side of me. He'd had a few drinks, I could tell. "Ya heard _Sgt. Pepper's_ yet?"

I wrinkled my nose. "No, man. What the heck is that?"

"It's only the best album _ever_ ," the girl said. I hadn't learned her name.

"Stupid name."

"Yeah, well, _Beatles_ is still just a pun," the girl shrugged. "But it's their album, so they can call it what they want." _The Beatles?_ Yuck! I don't see why people were so obsessed with them still. What was so great about them anyways? "You should give it a listen." I nodded, but I probably wasn't going to.

A few minutes later, somebody started passing some stuff around, these little white cubes of stuff. The girl and Curly looked real excited when they saw it. I held it in my hand, getting a bad feeling. When I asked what it was, Curly just raised an eyebrow.

"Ya mean, ya ain't ever heard of _psychedelics?_ " When I still looked at him confused, he tried again. "Ya know… _acid?_ "

Well, they both sounded like bad news to me. I think those were both codenames for LSD. I looked back down at the little cube in my hand and got a sick feeling in my stomach. If Johnny were still here, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be in this situation. "Um. Curly? I need some air."

"Y'okay?"

"Yeah, I just…headache," I lied.

So that's the story of how for once in my life, I used my head and got the hell outta there, weaving my way through the halls and throngs of people in a too-small space to get back out into the alleyway and onto the Strip. I took a few deep breaths before I realized the little cube was still in my hand, and I tossed it away. God, now that I had touched it, were the drugs still on me? I took another deep breath; every sound was coming across all thick-like, so I barely heard from the street,

"Kid? Get in the goddamn car."

XXXXX

Being with just Steve was awkward. Just being with him _period_ is usually pretty awkward, but now it was more awkward than usual. I guess it was karma that it was Steve who had found me. The universe was punishing me for running away again. But it wasn't like I was planning on staying gone! I just needed to get away for a little while. I guess that's what I said last time, too, and some stuff went down this time, too. But at least they found me. I guess.

Steve was white-knuckling the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, not bothering to say anything to me (per usual). I sat in the heavy silence, thinking about how Darry was probably going to rip me a new one, how this was probably going to undo all the good progress we've made in our relationship in that past few months. I wasn't looking forward to facing up to that. I could just picture us falling into our old ways, with Soda forced into the middleman position yet again, and Steve and Two-Bit on standby, armed with a snarky comment or ready to diffuse.

I wasn't expecting him to say anything to me; I was fully ready for him to throw me to the wolves as soon as we pulled up at my house, but Steve is just full of surprises I suppose because after what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, he asked, "Why'd you do that? Why'd you run off again?"

 _Again_. I knew why, though. "I was just overwhelmed," I whispered.

" _Overwhelmed?_ " Steve repeated. "Christ, kid, ain't we all? Everybody wants to run away at times. God, bet yer brother wishes he could all the time. But you can't. You just gotta suck it up."

Oh, joy, more first-rate advice from Steve Randle. _Suck it up_. That's all any of them did. Two-Bit said I didn't want to end up like them, that I was different, and Steve was right there when he said it, nodding along. If I just suck it up, won't I end up like them, anyway? Aren't they all always harping on me to be different? What do they _want_ from me?

"You don't get it," I spat. "This is different."

"Yeah? How?"

"It ain't like you've ever written anything like that down." My anger was starting to boil over, and I wondered when did I ever get this angry? "It's not like you care about school or anything, or even what people think of you!" Because it was true! "And – "

"If you say that week wasn't as bad for me as it was for you, I will break your nose."

Steve's voice really is soft, ya know. And I've known him long enough to know that at his angriest, his voice sounds like this: quiet and low and soft. His words are a very sudden and painful reminder that while that week was horrible for me – and it really was – it was really horrible for all of them, too. Everyone Johnny and Dallas and I left behind. It was horrible for Cherry Valance, and Randy Adderson. Two-Bit was the one who told me about the moments after Dallas's body was taken away, about that exchange between him and Steve about his blade. He was the one who told me about the tears, and then I went and put it in my theme. I wrote that theme because I had to, and I wrote it in the only way I could, which was from my perspective. How else could I have written it? But I guess I'd forgotten it wasn't just my story. It was theirs, too.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Then again. "'M'sorry."

"We've all seen shit, kid. We've all seen stuff that woulda made anybody else hide under a rock. But we can't do that. We just can't."

I shrunk down in my seat. What was wrong with me?

XXXXX

I've decided that both my brothers are equally embarrassing because as soon as Sodapop saw me, he ran towards the driveway and got me up in a bear hug as soon as I was out of the car. Same as he did in the hospital, but it was a lot more embarrassing this time because I'd only been gone a few hours and only a few streets over. Even if it did feel as if I'd been worlds away.

"Ace work, Stevie," Soda nodded to his buddy, and Steve gave him a tight smile.

"No problem," he said, then glared at me. But there wasn't as much heat behind it as there usually is. And Soda – thank God – didn't seem to notice.

Two-Bit pulled up a few minutes later. You could hear his truck from a mile off, and all I could think was that this latest fix was probably only temporary – one of these days, it was gonna stop and never start back up again. There are cars that are passed Soda being able to fix, there are cars that are passed Steve being able to fix; this one was beyond even their combined powers.

"Kid!" he called as he came up the walk. "Nice disappearing act." Soda glared at him, and Two-Bit looked appropriately remorseful, but only for a moment. "That shit's gonna come in handy for when ya gotta slip outta a girl's room – _trust_ me."

"Where's Darry?" I asked in response. Soda shrugged.

"Can't say exactly. Out lookin' for you still, I s'pose. That was pretty scary, kid. Why'd ya do it?"

I glanced at Steve. We were all on the porch now, and he was up on the railing, leaning against the support beam. I thought about what he said earlier, and he must've been, too. I could see it in his face. And I thought about how all of us are overwhelmed; I knew what got to me – but what got to them? What got to Steve? I could figure what got to Darry, and probably what got to Sodapop. I knew that Two-Bit worried about his mom and sister. I knew Steve and his dad didn't really get along, not since Mrs. Randle died. But I didn't know the particulars.

"I was just embarrassed," I said instead this time, hoping to avoid an explosion.

"What for?" Soda asked.

"I thought y'all would hate it. Hate what I had to say."

The three of them glanced at each other. Everyone is always silently communicating with each other – when will they start doing that with me? I feel like I'm being left out of some big inside joke. I feel left out, period. "Why would we? Pone, ya feel how ya feel," Soda said. "And I don't know much about this stuff, but I guess it was good technical-wise cuz you got that _A_ on it."

Two-Bit nodded along. "Nothin' gets by ya, kid," he said. "Impressive."

"And it's a free country – you can say whatever the hell ya want," Steve tacked on.

Well, I didn't know if I could say _whatever_ I wanted, but I didn't have time to rebuke him because Darry pulled up just then, becoming visibly relieved at the sight of all four of us sitting together on the porch, waiting for him. Soda lifted a hand in greeting, nodding his head just slightly towards me, as if Darry couldn't see I was there.

"Our runaway has returned!" Two-Bit cheerfully called. Darry ignored him. He usually does ignore our (his) antics.

Darry took his time getting to the porch, probably trying to keep his cool. I figured I was in for it; there was no way in hell I would be able to get away with a stunt like this unscathed. I was just hoping I wouldn't have to tell any of them what exactly went down while I was gone. I didn't even want to think about it myself.

The closer Darry got to the porch, the more the air around us stilled, and the quieter we got. The three of them were probably getting ready to watch me get a smack-down, and I guess that was what I was silently preparing myself for. He took his time coming up the walk, not really looking at any of us, and then stopped right before the steps and looked at me.

"Good," he finally said in response to Two-Bit. "Where'd ya find 'im?"

"On the Strip," Steve said.

Darry seemed to relax for some reason, and there was a voice in the back of my head that said _He shouldn't. If he knew, he wouldn't._ "Better now?" He asked.

Wait – that was it? No yelling, no groundings, no nothing? Well, I guess he still had some time for all that later, but still! I appreciated not being humiliated in front of everybody, but I was a little surprised he didn't just jump right in. Then it hit me: either someone had told him not to jump down my throat right away, or this was all because of the theme, that _stupid_ theme. I wondered if they had changed since they'd read it, and I hadn't even noticed. Did everything I said in there about Darry embarrass him or something? I was slowly learning that what I'd written apparently now affected everyone I cared about because, well, they'd all read it.

"I think," I shrugged. Less mad, more confused.

"Good," Darry sighed again. "Alright – y'all want dinner?"

XXXXX

 _I'm running. I don't know where I'm running, but I'm running – and fast. I think I'm running down our street, St. Louis. I'm running through a world of inverted colors and dark skies during the daytime and bright pink shadows. I can feel my feet pounding against the cement of the sidewalk, and then a jerk in my back as I veer off into the pothole-ridden asphalt street; my lungs are burning with the effort in a way that they only feel after the most difficult of runs._

 _All of a sudden, I'm no longer on my street; I'm on Sutton, I think – it looks like Sutton, in a very other-worldly way._

 _Curly is on the street corner, just like he was when we met up. It looks as if he's being spot-lit from an unknown source. I weave through speeding cars to get to him because all of a sudden, the streets are jam-packed, and I have the feeling that this is what rush hour in a place like Chicago must feel like, people leaning out of cars to swear at each other and throw shit out the windows. It looks like some sort of red light district. The street is suddenly populated with bottles of liquor and scantily-clad women and I'm pretty sure I get the phantom feeling of stepping in something chunky and wet. But I finally get to Curly._

 _Curly looks just as he did when I last saw him, but paler. He is illuminated under the sickly light of the midnight sun and the midday moon. He is scary in a very supernatural way, but I can't put my finger on exactly how. I just know that in real life, he's scary in a very, much-too-very real way. Tonight, he looks like a ghost._

 _"Curly," I hear myself say, maybe a greeting, maybe a question, maybe just my dream self recognizing who this was. They say that if you dream about someone, that means you've been on their mind. I don't know if I like the idea of Curly Shepard thinking about me hard enough that he shows up in my dreams._

 _His voice sounds hollow when he says, "I am already gone."_

 _"Curly," I repeat. "Curly."_

 _"They are already gone." All of a sudden, there's two little trickles of blood coming from the outer corners of his eyes. "We are already gone." Then he says it all backwards, I think._

 _"Curly," I repeat again, more urgently this time. There is now blood dripping from his fingertips from under his jacket._

 _"Ponyboy," he says, and suddenly we're both turning to dust –_

I woke up screaming.

Sodapop isn't totally unused to this by now. I haven't really experienced anything quite like this in a while, at least not since I got back from Windrixville, but the worst part about the nightmare this time is that I remember every bit of it with painful clarity: the colors, the city scene, Curly. I remember the blood and the grossness of the streets. What's weird is that I'm not exactly sure what's so scary about this dream – maybe the fact that I can still remember it even after I woke up. Maybe because I didn't understand what Curly was saying. All I know is that even after my eyes had snapped open, I was still screaming bloody murder.

"Pony! _Pony!_ You're okay, calm down, kiddo…"

I hear Soda's voice, and I cling to it like a lifeline. There is no way we haven't woken Darry up with our noise. Soda had sat up and was holding my arms down because I guess I'd started flailing around, but by the time Darry showed up, my tears and screaming had started to taper off. I hope none of the neighbors had heard.

"Nightmare?" Darry asked. Not to me, but to Soda.

"Think so," he breathed. "You okay now, Pony?"

Shoot – was I okay? I wasn't sure…I sure didn't _feel_ okay. I was awake, I was alive; however, I felt empty. I stopped screaming and started crying instead. I thought that would be answer enough for my brothers, but they still watched me expectantly like they wanted a real answer. A few minutes ago, it felt as if I wasn't even on this planet; none of it felt real enough for me to know what to say.

"Pony?" Soda tried again, his voice gentle and patient.

I swallowed roughly. Then I shook my head. "I don't know what's goin' on," I mumbled, sounding small. And that was all I could think to say. Soda just sighed and flopped back down beside me as Darry hovered in the doorway.

XXXXX

 **AN: Thank you guys for being patient with me, and thank you for reading!**


	5. A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall

**Chapter Five: A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall**

 **Author's Note: A big thank-you to everyone who continues to show their support by following/favoriting/reviewing. It means so much to me to know you guys are enjoying this story!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Rereading, or just haven't finished?"

I smirked bashfully. "Haven't finished. I read _Hamlet_ before _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern_ , so I didn't have as much time for the other two."

Mrs. Locklear playfully clucked at me. "Ponyboy Curtis, my, my," she tisked, wagging a finger at me, and I laughed. "Well, there aren't any prerequisites for these two, so enjoy," she said, and passed me back _Of Mice and Men_ and _In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash_.

"Thanks, Mrs. Locklear. Hey, Mrs. Locklear?"

"Yes, sweetie."

I scuffed the toe of my Chucks against the wood floor. There was a little part of me that wanted to tell her that even though it had been an invasion of my privacy, they hadn't asked, yada yada yada, the guys had actually _liked_ my theme. They thought it was good writing. But I wasn't sure I was ready for anyone else to know about this yet. "Nevermind."

"Alright, dear. You enjoy those books, now."

XXXXX

Things had been going _too_ smoothly since my disappearing act. I think Steve and Two-Bit had been keeping their distance out of fear that Darry was going to blow at any moment. It was probably only a little over a day, but it felt like an eternity. Darry and Soda went off to work, and so did Steve, and Two-Bit didn't stop by for a whole day without an explanation (my guess was that he was with Bridget Stevens), leaving me to entertain myself. That wasn't really that hard, though. I'd renewed my books, and was sitting back with _In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash_. Mrs. Locklear had said it was a humor book, and while I did like it so far, I couldn't tell if it was really a laugh-out-loud sort of funny. There were humorous observations, but I dunno, maybe I should run some of these stories by the guys to see if I'm missing the punchline.

What the book did deliver on was nostalgia. Big time.

I wondered if fourteen was too young to be so nostalgic.

There was a story in there that reminded me of something in the here and now. There was a character in the book, a real drunkard, who shot off this huge firework – really more of a bomb – on the Fourth of July. Fireworks seemed to be as big a thing in Depression era Indiana as they were in my trashy neighborhood in Oklahoma. The holiday was coming up soon enough, a few weeks away. It was a favorite of the gang's because we could be loud and obnoxious and destructive without anyone being able to say anything because that's what our forefathers would have wanted. Dallas and Steve were experts at getting the fireworks, the good ones; Sodapop was fearless when it came to lighting them; Darry and Two-Bit would whip footballs and baseballs back and forth; me and Johnny would listen to the radio. Then the show would come at night, after a long, hot day of the five of them drinking, and we'd all sit back and watch and hope no one blew their fingers off.

I wondered how it would be different this year.

But it wasn't just the fireworks I was thinking of; I was thinking about the neighbor, too. I knew just about everyone on our street, or at the very least who lived in which house. Two-Bit lived down the street in the two-story on the corner a street over – you could see it from our front porch; Steve lived on the street behind him; the Cades lived two streets behind us. Then there was a guy and his wife who lived on the corner opposite the Mathews'. It was just them, and I guessed they were middle-aged. We didn't know them too well, but I think Mom used to do churchy things with the Mrs. Long. Her husband, Howard Long, was notorious for getting absolutely sloshed and wandering the streets at night and in the wee hours of the morning, but he was harmless. I saw him talking to Darry sometimes, about pretty inconsequential things. He was probably the nicest boozer any of us had ever met, and the reason I'm not including Two-Bit is because Two-Bit's young and also picks on me a lot.

It must have been some funny cosmic coincidence that I was reading about his literary counterpart the day I had my first-ever conversation with him.

I'd, uh, never spoken to him before myself. Just because he was harmless and talked to just about everybody else I knew without a problem didn't mean he didn't make me a little bit nervous. But just a little bit.

Like I said, I was alone that day, sitting under a tree in the backyard reading, considering walking over to the DX for a Pepsi while also sending telepathic communiques to Two-Bit to get his ass over here, when I heard someone lean against the fence and say, "Lovely day! Ain't it."

I looked up from my book a bit startled. There was Mr. Long, leaning on my fence, staring up at the sky. "Uh – "

"Lovely, but I'd say it looks like rain."

I let out a quiet sigh and put down my book. Looks like he was gearing up for a conversation with me. I had to remind myself how to communicate with human beings after being _LEFT ALONE ALL SUMMER._ I took stock of him for a moment, and he didn't seem too soused to me. I couldn't help but wonder why he'd pick me to bug today. "I…guess so," I shrugged.

"It's just one'a those things you learn to pick up on over time," he explained without prompting. I hadn't realized Howard was some sort of meteorologist. He finally looked over at me. "Ponyboy, right?"

I raised my eyebrows in a bit of surprise. "Yeah, that's me." He nodded once.

"Yeah, Darrel talks about you all the time. Pretty proud of ya. I would be, too, if I were him. Read about yer run in the state meet in the papers – congratulations."

"Thanks," I said softly.

"Well, I best git. Nice meetin' ya, Ponyboy." And then he loped off. I watched him leave, becoming a dot in the distance, before going back to my book.

Later that day, Darry told me that my encounter wasn't so unusual. Howard was apparently very sociable and liked to chat with anyone he saw. It was just his way.

"But he don't even know me," I said.

"Yeah, well, there are some pretty odd birds in this neighborhood." And wasn't that the truth – just between our house, Two-Bit's, and Steve's alone. This neighborhood was probably long overdue for some sane people.

XXXXX

"Pony. We need to talk."

Uh-oh.

I mean, I knew this was coming. There was no way I was going to get away with running off like that and come away unscathed. I was starting to get the feeling that this stupid theme was going to follow me – all of us – for the rest of my life. The rest of _our_ lives. Because now it's out there and they know everything I thought about that week and more.

"Okay, Dare," I said slowly, and he sat down on the edge of my bed and sighed, looking so, _so_ tired.

"Pony," he began, "I, uh…you can't just…" He looked to the ceiling like that would be the place he'd find the words. "You can't run away from your problems," he decided on saying, voice softer than I'd heard in a long time. He and Steve seemed to be of the same train of thought. It didn't surprise me, really; Soda was right when he'd said that Darry could have stuck us in a boys' home and work through college, play football, become whatever it was he wanted to become. "But…look, none of us ever wanted this – this theme to become a problem. We just had questions."

"Too many," I grumbled, and a smirk flashed across Darry's face before quickly disappearing.

"Well…'course," he shrugged. "You, uh, you said a lot of things, things that…were revelations, things that hurt." My ears started burning again and I couldn't meet his icy blue eyes. It was weird to hear Darry talk about getting his feelings hurt – he usually pretends he doesn't have any. "I'm sorry if we… _invaded_ your privacy," he said, not sounding all that sorry, but it was better than nothing, "but it's true. Words hurt."

He said it that simple – words hurt. Boy, did I know that. "How did they hurt?" I asked quietly. Darry raised his eyebrows.

"Well, it ain't like you were bein' dishonest – truth hurts, too. And you were right about most of everything about us. I dunno, you'd have to ask the others, but I don't…I don't hate you, kid, and I never could."

"Didn't you read it? I know that now."

"I know. I know, I just…well. There were other things, too. That you were…probably right about. You're observant for a kid. I'm sorry I didn't ask to read it, Pony. I'm sorry none of us did."

I felt my heart creep up into my throat and form a heavy lump. I wondered if maybe I should say sorry, too, for what I'd written. Things are so different from what they were in November. Even with Mom and Dad gone, when it was the seven of us, there was still a normalcy to things. Now everybody is either learning lessons or dead. "Thanks," I whispered.

"But, uh…it _was_ good," he added, smiling for real this time. I smiled a little bit, too. He sighed again and stood up. "Oh, and Pony?"

"Yeah?"

"No library for two weeks."

XXXXX

"Where're we goin', exactly?" I asked.

"Some diner. I'll know it when I see it."

Sure.

I was in a bit of a pissy mood, if I'm being honest. Darry had let me off pretty easy, and it was better than being grounded, but no library? _No library?!_ It's like he'd cut off my arms! But he got me where it hurts, the bastard. "Ya sure?" I asked, and Soda just waved me off as he drove and scanned the streets.

In an odd turn of character, Steve had asked both Sodapop _and_ me if we wanted to get a burger for dinner, and Soda had agreed for the both of us before I could even ask Steve what the hell was wrong with him and if he had some sort of terminal illness. So here I was, in the truck, bitter about not being able to go to the library even though I'd just been there and had no reason to go again anytime soon, and very confused about why the heck Steve would willingly spend time with me.

But I was soon to find out.

"Okay, that's the one – Arnie's Diner! That's the one," Soda said triumphantly. "See? Told ya I'd know it when I see it."

"Let's hope," I grumbled.

As soon as I saw them, I knew why Steve was okay with me tagging along tonight, because Two-Bit was there, too, and so were Evie Martin and Bridget Stevens.

I've known Evie a pretty long time – Mom used to get her hair done at Mrs. Martin's salon, and for a long time Mom would drag me along as part of a day of errands. I would sit in a chair by the window while Mom sat in the chair, her and Mrs. Martin chatting away, Evie sweeping up. After a while, somebody made sure to have a few comic books in there for me and the other poor guys who got dragged along. I guess that's where Mrs. Randle once got her hair done, too, and where most of the women on this side of town did. The Martin family was familiar around the East side for precisely that reason, and she and Steve had been dating for quite a while now. Evie was a bit brash, a bit bawdy, and a bit too casual about showing skin, but at the end of the day, she was nice to me and that was more than I could say for her boyfriend.

Bridget Stevens still stuck out like something of a sore thumb amongst us. Compared to Evie, she was about ten times more modest, which meant about a hundred times more than the other girls I was familiar with. She had a happy, but slightly nervous look to her, and she spoke gently and with great care. I knew her some from school and had liked sitting next to her in art – at least, I liked it better than sitting next to anyone else in there – but I didn't know much about her outside of her being on the Pom-Pom squad and liking singing, and that she was friends with Cherry Valance. Bridget was still a mystery to us – to a lot of people in Tulsa, I'd bet – but Two-Bit must've solved her, or at least liked trying.

They both seemed to notice me at the same time, Evie's broad grin and " _Hey, Pony!_ " a bit of a stark contrast to Bridget's polite smile and _"Hello, Ponyboy_." I was just glad they didn't ignore me. They said hey to Sodapop, too, but of course they did. Everybody always notices Sodapop, and usually first.

"'Bout time," Steve drawled as we slid into the booth. "Ordered some Pepsis."

"Gettin' kinda dark out there," Two-Bit said, looking out the window with a cocked eyebrow. Soda waved off his concern. Which was weird because Two-Bit is the least concerned person that _I_ know.

"Isn't this cute, our little family of misfits gettin' together like this," Sodapop grinned, getting him a few laughs. "Ladies," he tipped his head, and they both smiled at him. My brother's quite the charmer, even to taken women.

"I hope here is okay, I tried to pick a place that was an equal distance for everyone." Bridget tried to hide a proud smile behind her menu, but she didn't quite succeed. Two-Bit and Steve and Evie exchanged little looks, and then Sodapop looked at me. Something was fishy here.

"It's fine," Sodapop shrugged, sounding confused. "But I thought Steve had picked."

"I invited y'all."

"Right…"

"But that don't mean I picked the place."

"So you asked her to pick one?"

Bridget lowered her menu. "What's the problem? Is there something wrong with the restaurant? We can go somewhere else – "

"We don't _need_ to go somewhere else," Two-Bit said, directed to her, "the _place_ doesn't matter, it's the…it's the _people_ and what we've gathered here to, uh…to talk about."

Sodapop narrowed his eyes. "I smell a rat."

"How do you smell a rat?" Steve asked. "And what does it smell like?"

" _Please_ don't go into detail," Bridget said with a hand held up as if to tell us to _stop_.

"These goons want to talk to you about this girl, Sodapop," Evie told him. "To put it frankly, you've been cornered."

Sodapop slumped back in his booth. "Oh, y'all have _got_ to be _kiddin'_ me."

"Look, Soda, we're not tryin' to corner ya – "

"That's exactly what you're doin'."

" – we just think it's time," Steve finished. I now had a better feeling for why I was here – to help the rest of them gang up on my brother. Actually, it wasn't a half bad idea, I just had no idea why the girls had to be here. Maybe as a demonstration for Steve and Two-Bit's increased happiness when they were with them? Who knows?

"This is a waste of my time," Soda grumbled, his mood instantly soured at the mention of girls. "Mark my words, Ponyboy, you should avoid women at all costs."

"Does a pretty good job of it anyway," Steve smirked, and Two-Bit snorted.

"He just hasn't _blossomed_ yet," Two-Bit snickered, and both Steve _and_ Soda laughed – an instant brotherly betrayal. I scowled at all of them.

"You can shut up," I grumbled. "I don't care about girls."

"Oh, _we know_ ," Two-Bit said, and they started laughing harder.

"You're all terrible," Evie said, shaking her head, eyes accusing. She turned back to me with a winning smile. "What Ponyboy here needs is time away from y'all." Suddenly, she was standing up and had me by the arm, her red-painted claws wrapped around and gently pulling me up. "C'mon, Bridget – let's leave these clowns to themselves."

Bridget slid out of the booth, and the guys all started protesting as we walked away and sat at the counter. I was seated between the East side's and the West side's hottest commodities, if you're to believe Steve and Two-Bit. I wasn't sure if the two of them were exactly friends, but I knew that I wasn't exactly theirs, either, so we made a pretty odd trio. Bridget's wild hair brushed my arm at one point, and even that much contact was enough to make me feel as if I was somehow betraying Two-Bit just by sitting next to her.

"Kid. _Relax,_ " Evie said to me, laughter in her voice. "And c'mon, wouldn't you rather sit with us than them?"

"We can get just as fed up with them as you do," Bridget said coyly, like it was some big secret that the three of them were probably the most annoying people on the planet. "But I'd try not to take it personally, Ponyboy – they aren't really trying to hurt you."

"But we're more fun!" Evie said. "Let's start by ordering the most expensive stuff off the menu – Bee's payin'."

"I am?"

I shook my head. "You guys don't have to be nice to me. I know you'd still rather be hangin' out with them. It's fine."

Bridget raised an eyebrow. She and Two-Bit really are perfect for each other. "I don't think it's about _rather_. Look, we're all hear together, and you're a nice boy – "

"Who probably gets sick of gettin' picked on."

"Right," Bridget said to Evie with a smile. "We're just giving you some breathing room. Besides…" Another coy smile. "To everyone else, it looks like you stole away both their girls."

I looked over my shoulder back at our booth, and yep, Two-Bit and Steve were both shooting me daggers while Soda gave me the thumbs-up. I quickly turned back around and smiled to myself. "If they're so annoying, why do y'all like 'em?"

I should've known that question would open up a can of worms. It quickly became a barrage of _Oh, you don't know his sweet side…He can be a real gentleman…You've known them your whole life, of course you get fed up with them_. I didn't understand girls, and I sure didn't understand relationships. I shook my head.

"I don't see why they gotta bug me about girls," I grumbled. "What's the big deal? No offense, but I guess I just don't get the appeal of it."

The two girls exchanged glances. They were like Betty and Veronica; they were total opposites, but even if I wasn't exactly sure they were friends, they sure had the whole silent communication thing down pat. "The appeal of what?" Evie asked.

I shrugged. "Dating? I guess?"

"Ponyboy, you're only fourteen. It's alright that you don't want to date. I didn't have my first boyfriend until…well, until last fall," she said a bit awkwardly. She used to date the quarterback, but she dumped him for my idiot friend. I liked them both, but I still didn't get it, didn't get why she did that.

"You're just a bit of a late bloomer," Evie said bluntly, and I blushed. "But, hey," she grinned, "look around." She gestured to the diner. "We weren't kiddin' when we said that it looks to everyone else that you picked up a coupl'a real cute chicks. Didn't he, Stevens?"

"Sure did," Bridget said gently and with an amused smirk. "Hell, Pony" – I was surprised to hear her swear – "I'd say that you could probably get any girl you wanted, when you're ready. Because while the guys may be jealous…"

"The girls are lookin' _totally_ interested," Evie finished, almost in a purr. It was strange, but…looking around, it seemed as if they were right. And I didn't know how to feel about that. I never thought about it before, but it was weird to think that girls might…like looking at me. Maybe not the girls I was with, but others. Girls who looked real good in yellow.

"Oh," I mumbled, and both of them laughed, Evie's more a cackle and Bridget's making her sound even more the sophisticate.

As they both got over whatever was so funny, there was a flash outside, followed by a loud crack of thunder, and I knew what was coming. Everyone in that diner probably knew – the experienced of us, that is. I wasn't surprised when just a few moments later, there was a pounding of feet and a reclaiming of property as Steve and Two-Bit showed back up, standing over the three of us. Two-Bit had a cigarette stuck behind his ear, and Steve was already fiddling with his keys. Another crack of thunder, and the skies opened.

"We should prolly get," Two-Bit said, watching the rain pound the windows with a wary eye.

Bridget slid off the stool to stand beside him. It's strange, because when Kathy was still around, Two-Bit would always have his arms all over her and make a huge show of the two of them, but not anymore, not with this girl. "That sure came on fast."

"Well, you ain't been in Oklahoma in storm season."

Two-Bit had a good point. This time of year was always stormy and dangerous. Steve and Soda keep saying that one of these days they're gonna chase down a tornado, but I doubt they ever will. I've never seen one, but every year, without a doubt, there are sirens, and I'm thinking today's gonna be the first of the season. It sends chills down my spine. I don't want to lose anything else.

"Sure got dark fast," Soda said, materializing beside me.

"That's what I said!" Two-Bit cried.

"What _exactly_ does storm season mean for Oklahoma?" Bridget asked, which I was glad for because she seemed to sense that that my dumb brother and her even dumber…gosh, I guess he's her… _boyfriend_ were about to get into something. She smoothed out the skirt of her light blue dress, and I had to work hard to ignore her legs.

"Oh, not much," Two-Bit grinned sarcastically, "just a never-ending barrage of twisters."

Bridget blanched, and we all took that as our cue to make a run for it.

XXXXX

Darry was standing on the front porch when we pulled up. He was backlit by the glow from the house coming through the screen door. Sodapop and I bolted from the car, both of us a bit surprised to see him home and getting nearly soaked in the process. The sky had gone dark, the inky color of tar, and it wasn't even late enough to be full dark. For as bad as it looked, though, the true warning sign would've been a green-tinted sky. That's trouble.

"Get in here," Darry called over the thrum of the rain, and Sodapop and I bolted into the house, dripping everywhere. "And strip!"

"Woah, Darrel – there are innocent eyes here."

Well, well, look who decided to show his face again! Even though I'd just seen him at the diner, it felt different to see Two-Bit back here again, and toting with him his kid sister, both of them sitting on the couch. Sadie looked to be near sleep. Soda grinned at them.

"What brings y'all here?"

"Yeah, and how'd you get here before us?" I asked.

"Magic," Two-Bit said simply, with a wicked grin. Then he went on to explain that Mrs. Mathews was still working, and the storm had Sadie kinda freaked, so they'd come over here. "Safety in numbers – or, so she thinks," Two-Bit said, shaking his head at his sister's kid-logic.

I didn't bother with a shower, just threw my wet stuff in the laundry and put on something dry, Soda doing the same. Darry had this fear of showering during storms, saying we could get electrocuted or something, so Soda and I humored him. I sat by the window and drew my knees up to my chest and stared out, watching the storm. There wasn't a whole lot to see, not really. The falling rain was like a curtain, torrential, and I could barely make out the lit windows on the other side of the street. Except for in the briefest moments when lightning struck, and then I could see everything in a slightly bluish light. And then there was a loud _bang!_ and the front door had been flung open to reveal Steve. It was truly a full house tonight.

But except for the rain, there was a contented quiet. I could see the entire goings-on in the house from my perch. The night Johnny and Dallas died, the quiet was horrible, awful. I didn't so much mind it now. Darry was watching the late show, Steve and Soda doing so too as they halfheartedly played a game of Gin on the floor. Two-Bit still sat on the couch, with Sadie in his lap and her arms wrapped around his neck. There was a small part of me that was jealous of her for still having a mother.

This comfortable silence was suddenly and violently shattered by the sound of the tornado/civil-defense siren. My heart skipped a beat and I looked to the sky to see if that tell-tale green was there, but if anything, it only looked a slightly lighter grey.

"Well, shit," Darry said after suddenly appearing over my shoulder to look out the window, even though there really wasn't anything to see. "We oughta get down to the basement."

"Aw, man, for real?" Sodapop asked as he slapped his cards onto the ground.

"Fucking gross down there," Steve grumbled.

Two-Bit gestured to his sister. "Y'all really thought I wasn't serious? Watch yer damn mouths."

Darry was already moving. "Shut up." He threw open the basement door. "Think I'm kiddin'? I'm not kiddin', get moving. All of ya."

No one would dare argue with Darry when he's using that tone of voice unless they were strongly considering suicide. Steve and Soda abandoned their card game, Two-Bit stood up with a sleeping Sadie still in his arms, and Sodapop and I trailed right behind Darry with the rest of them into the basement, a dusty hanging light providing a dim yellow glow. The basement was covered in boxes full of junk, so we all stood close together, looking up for whatever reason.

I don't know what we were looking for.

Maybe we were waiting for the lights to go out – as they always, inevitably did – and they _did_ , a few minutes later. I could hear a few faceless voices swearing softly, then a slightly louder whisper that clearly belonged to Two-Bit said,

"Oh. And I guess I'm nineteen now."

XXXXX

 **AN: Thanks for reading!**


	6. Baby, You Can Light My Fire

**Author's Note: Yay, an update! Yeah, I suck, but here's an update (finally!)**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Man, we really gotta be the worst friends on the planet. Who forgets their friend's birthday?"

It was too early for Sodapop's…whatever this was. We were eating breakfast, for god's sakes! I wasn't ready to think about how horrible a friend I was. My stomach was barely awake, let alone me. I couldn't begin to process what this all meant. But I did feel bad. Not long after Two-Bit had made his little announcement, the sirens went off and we made our way upstairs and the rain had cleared enough that he took Sadie home, and he didn't say any more about it. Steve went home to check on his father. And now it was the morning after, and we were sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast and listening to the radio so we could figure out what the damage was.

"Sounds like the tornado was just outside of town," Darry mumbled as he built his egg sandwich. "Interested to see what damage the wind and rain did, though."

"Didn't you hear me? We're terrible friends," Soda repeated, and he was really looking a bit distraught about it. I guess that's one of the good things about Soda; he really does care. But I guess that's also one of his downfalls, his weak points, wearing that heart of his on his sleeve. Then again, pretty much everybody says I do the same thing. Long story short, Sodapop and I are both pretty sensitive. But he cries more!

Darry sighed and put down his sandwich, which he didn't look too happy about. "Sodapop, look – Two-Bit don't care none. He's always pullin' shit like this, so if he'd rather not do anything about it – "

"Then why say anything?" Soda asked. He was so distraught he could barely spoon out his grape jelly onto his eggs. I grimaced; Sodapop would sometimes forgo the grape jelly and go for hot sauce, which in my eyes was just as nasty a combination. I knew that it was inevitable, too, that one day he would combine the two, and then Darry and I would have to disown him.

"To fuck with us," Darry shrugged. I didn't get it sometimes, how Darry and Two-Bit could be best friends. Darry sometimes acted as if Two-Bit Mathews was the most annoying person in his life. But then again, I guess I've learned that things aren't always as they seem, and maybe that was just how it was with them. Steve and Soda had their own ways, and I'd had my own ways with Johnny.

Friendship can be weird.

Sodapop leaned back behind him and turned the dial on the radio, clearly done with listening to the news, and since Darry didn't say anything, I guessed he was, too. The local rock station was playing a firm Sodapop Curtis favorite, but I still don't get why he's so obsessed with The Doors. They've got a song that's, what, seven minutes long? That's ungodly. And I knew that Darry at least agreed with me on that. He started bobbing his head along, and Darry just rolled my eyes. I may not have been a fan, but it was undeniable that there was something different about the music that was coming out this year.

"Oh – Darry."

"Yeah."

Sodapop grimaced. "Steve an' Evie persuaded me to go on a date with this girl. It's a blind setup."

Darry watched him warily. "You ready for that?"

"Guess so," Soda shrugged. "I mean, I s'pose they're right. Gotta get back in the game at some point, ya know?"

I could see the gears working in Darry's head. Always thinking, that one. "Alright, well, you think you'll be back late?"

"Can't say," Soda finally grinned. "Why, what'chou got cookin', Darrel Curtis?"

Darry just shrugged. "Nothin', nothin'. Just…keep it conservative."

Soda shot me a conspiratorial smile. I just shook my head; Sodapop never kept it conservative. I'd heard (overheard) enough bull sessions to know. But I guess there was always the possibility that he was exaggerating. I mean, I figured there was no way all of those stories they told, all those webs they spun, could be true. Could they?

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow night."

Darry nodded thoughtful, always appreciative of being able to plan ahead. I'm sure he'd pencil it in on the calendar, something stupid like _Soda's gonna get some!_ because the two of them are always kidding around with each other and leaving me to always miss the joke, though something like that is pretty easy to decipher. I'm not _that_ stupid.

"Right, well," Darry continued on, clearly moving from Soda's thing, "I gotta get goin'."

Soda tossed his crumpled-up napkin on the table. "Yeah, me too."

They both sounded kinda disappointed about it. I guess they'd been hoping they'd be able to use the storm as an excuse somehow, but I don't think the damage ending up being too bad here in town. At least, nothing detrimental. Not to my knowledge. I was still eating when I waved goodbye. I'm not exactly the world's fastest eater.

Loud, cowboy-booted footsteps bounding up the porch alerted me to Two-Bit's presence because, ya know, who else would it be? Howard Long? The vacuum salesman? Besides, both of them would knock – Two-Bit, like everyone else, just waltzes right in. He turned around a chair and sat backwards in it and just cocked an eyebrow at me as I poked at my eggs.

"Takin' yer time ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about. Least ya won't choke."

I glared at him. "Shouldn't you be over at your house or somethin'?"

"Why?"

"Because of the storm last night? What about your mom and sister?"

Two-Bit waved off my concern and told me that his mom had work and his sister was with one of her little friends, and the house hadn't sustained any damage, so he figured he might as well come over. He said he'd even stopped by Bridget Stevens' house to make sure _she_ was okay, and since she was fine, then it was a done deal. So here he was, chatting to me while I picked up breakfast and changed for the day. It was only when I'd come out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth that I noticed he'd been carrying a record album with him. I pointed to it.

"What's that?"

He glanced at it. "Oh! Yeah. Hey, so, Bee did this grab-bag thing at this record store she likes, and she already had this one, so she said to give it to you."

Two-Bit just shrugged and handed me the record album that he'd carried in with him. It was _Camelot_ , the recording from the Broadway play. The cover was white and had a yellow castle on it, and there were these little cartoonish people on the front. I guess they were supposed to be the main characters. And the letters were really fancy. I didn't know a thing about the play, so I had no idea why she thought I'd want it.

"Why'd she give it to me?" I asked, more confused than ungrateful. I mean, it was a nice gesture.

"Hell, I dunno. She just said you needed to listen to it. She also said a bunch of stuff about Knights of the Round Table and Kennedy and…some book, and said you should read that, too…you wouldn't know it by lookin' at her, but get her goin', she's hard to stop." I listened to him as I propped up the album against the record player, making sure to steady it so it didn't fall over. "Say, it's kinda nice out. Let's get the hell outta here, huh?"

XXXXX

"So tell me about this book of yours."

I rolled my eyes and groaned dramatically. Had Two-Bit not been paying attention at all lately? Well, now that I ask the question, it's very likely that he hadn't been. That's not to say that Two-Bit's exactly out of the loop, but he's…he's somethin'. That's about all I know to say at the moment. Well, that's also not entirely true. He's got his own life, his own things on his mind. Who's to say what exactly has got him distracted.

"It's not a book," I grunted. "It's just something I wrote for school."

I kicked a pebble down the street. The rain had cooled everything off – probably not for long, but still – but the air was still a bit heavy. We hadn't been very successful yet in our search for junk, but it felt nice to get some fresh air. But I was still feeling pretty guilty about Two-Bit's admission from last night, and I kept trying to think of ways to bring it back up and coming up with nothing.

"Quite the something," Two-Bit contradicted. "Mr. Syme ain't the only person impressed with ya."

I kicked the pebble one more time and sighed, turning on my buddy. "What did _you_ think of it?"

Two-Bit stopped, too. "Didn't I just tell ya?"

"I mean, what did you _think_ of it."

"Ah." He had picked up on the fact that those were clearly two different questions, with two different answers. It's a nuance thing. I very nearly hated myself for even asking the question because now he was going to think that I cared and all. Which I don't. "Well, I mean, can't complain 'bout your, uh, _portrayal_ of me," he said, shooting me a grin. "Though, nobody knows what the hell ya mean when ya called Steve 'tacky.' That was just kinda weird, ya know? And, well, you notice a lot of stuff, but I don't know if you're exactly right about everything ya notice. Know what I mean? C'mon, let's keep walkin'."

Well, thing is, I wasn't exactly sure I _did_ know what he meant, but I didn't feel like asking for any clarification. I didn't feel like talking about my theme ever again. And ya know what? I decided right then and there, as Two-Bit and I walked along and I half-heartedly listened as he talked my ear off, that I never would. As soon as I got home, I was going to grab all three of those notebooks, take one last look at them and the big fat _A+_ and probably the note Mr. Syme wrote me, and box them up. Then I was gonna put that box in the attic, where it can sit for as long as I'd like it to, for as long as I _need_ it to. It was time to bury that week in my life, and I could see that now.

Heck – maybe I _should_ bury it.

"Hey, what's goin' on here?"

I looked up, and my stomach dropped and my eyes widened. Two-Bit started walking and I followed him, and he approached a guy standing in front of the library, the entrance to which had been blocked off. Two-Bit then proceeded to ask the same question he'd just rhetorically asked me, and the guy, who I guess was a construction worker or something, told us that the storm had flooded the library and that it was closed for repairs. I'm pretty sure Two-Bit had asked only for my sake, which was nice and all, but I guess that my grounding didn't matter anymore because it looked like this mess was gonna take a while to clean up. _Great_. As we walked away, I worked on keeping my breathing slow and even, but I guess I was being pretty loud about it because Two-Bit suddenly stopped me with a rough hand on my shoulder. He held me at arm's length and looked at me hard with a worried expression and narrowed brow, and I wanted to yell at him to stop looking at me like that. So I did.

"Kid, calm down, yer freakin' me out a bit here. What's wrong, Pony?"

I could feel my eyes start to water up, and there was a miniscule change in Two-Bit's facial expression that read as, _Great. Here he goes again, and I've gotta deal with it_. I rubbed my eye with the palm of my hand, but that didn't help anything. I just stared at a point past Two-Bit on the concrete, watching as it went blurry as my eyes continued to well up with tears.

" _Pony_ , really. Look, kid," he sort of laughed, "I get you like it there, but it's not like they're shutting it down. It's just flooded, they'll clean it up."

But that wasn't it. It was the police tape and the orange cones and the construction worker. It was Mrs. Locklear, because what would she do if she couldn't work? I had known Mrs. Locklear ever since I'd started coming to the library, ever since that first time Dad had brought me, and I was realizing I didn't know a thing about her, not really. I mean, I guessed she was married, but what if her husband was dead or something? What if…

"It's not just that," I blubbered, feeling so incredibly _stupid_. How many times am I gonna cry in front of these people? I take it back – I'm now one-hundred percent certain that I cry more than Sodapop. I win.

"Then what else is it?"

I gestured back to the library and garbled out Mrs. Locklear's name, and by this point, Two-Bit was really looking confused. He still had his hand on my shoulder, and the two of us stood on the sidewalk for a minute before he started steering me towards a bus stop, and once again this all felt much too similar to the night Johnny and Dallas died, and I was reminded again of my stupid, stupid theme, and let out a strangled sob. Oh, man, what was Mrs. Locklear going to do? When would I see her again? How long does it take for a place like that to recover from flooding? I didn't know anything, not really, about the entire situation, but I was certain that Mrs. Locklear's life was ruined. And how was I going to return my books? Would there still be fines?

"How long will it take for the bus to get here?"

Two-Bit was busy trying to light a cigarette when he sighed and said, "I dunno, kid. Breathe, Ponyboy. Just breathe."

The bus did finally come, and I could feel Two-Bit's worried eyes on me even as I started to calm down. But as soon as we got home, I threw my theme into a cardboard box and without telling him what it was, I made Two-Bit help me bury it under my favorite tree in the backyard, the one where I read, the one where I was sitting when I first spoke to Howard Long.

"Please don't tell me we just buried a dead animal."

I shook my head. Because all we'd done was bury a little part of each of us. That's all that week was – just a little part of each of us.

XXXXX

The next night, the four of us basically served as Sodapop's cheering section, bolstering him as he got ready to go on his big date. Soda wasn't really the sort of guy to get nervous before going out with a girl; girls got nervous going out with _him_. I mean, I guess we're a good-looking set of guys, if any of the girls I knew were to be believed, but it was always Sodapop who was the standout. Steve had Evie, and Two-Bit had Bridget Stevens, and Darry was too busy to date, but he got a lot of phone numbers still. Still, though, at the end of the day, it was Soda, Soda, Soda who the girls fawned over. I guess I got it, but if they knew my brother the way I knew him, maybe they wouldn't be so quick to give him their affections.

"Pony, you still ain't shavin' yet, are ya?" Soda asked me as I watched on.

"Nah," I said glumly.

"Maybe he's just one'a those guys who _never_ has to shave," Steve said, smirking mischievously (evilly) at me. I scowled.

"Shuddup," I mumbled, and Steve snickered. Sodapop was very careful with the razor, to avoid any nicks. I suppose that sort of thing would be embarrassing.

"The hell is _this?_ "

That was Darry. All three of us turned towards the direction of his voice and Two-Bit's cackling and pronouncement of _"Ah, man, that's rough…_ "

Curiosity piqued, the three of us exchanged glances and, with shaving cream still on Soda's face, wandered out to the kitchen table and found Darry scowling at the mail. He'd been going through it like he did when he got home from work, like he and Soda always did because shoot, I never got any mail. The four of us read over his shoulder, and discovered that Darry had been called up for jury duty. Jury duty! Of all things. I smirked; that was a tough break. But if he got picked, wouldn't that mean we'd be without his paycheck for a little while? Man oh man.

"Shit, that is rough," Soda said cheerfully, clapping Darry roughly on the shoulder and then finishing toweling off his face. "Welp, I'm off! Wish me luck!"

We all sorta waved after him, but Darry's situation was much more interesting, and we all had a million questions for him, which probably wasn't the best thing because this whole thing was clearly pissing Darry off. "Don't you two have anything better to do with yourselves? Don't you have dates of your own?"

Steve and Two-Bit both happily shook their heads. Steve said that Evie was helping her mom do inventory down at the salon, and Two-Bit said that Bridget was out with some of her friends. Bridget Stevens and her friends – like Cherry Valance - get a lot of stuff written about them in the gossip column. Darry says it's because they're visible, whatever he means by that. Darry used to sometimes get write-ups about him in there. It's written by Janine Johnston, and it's pretty much all about society members and what they wear and who they see, or fashion trends, or big school functions. I'm pretty sure we all think that lady needs to get a life. High school is long over for her.

"What's on TV right now?"

"Ball game, maybe," Darry shrugged, and the three of them meandered over to the TV to mindlessly watch baseball or something, and I wandered back to my room. I'd taken _Camelot_ back there with me last night to listen to, after everything with the library, and tonight I put it on again. I kept the volume low, cracked open my window because there was a real nice breeze tonight, and grabbed _Of Mice and Men._ Steve had told me that the book was on the tenth grade English reading list, so I'd probably just end up reading it again this year, but I didn't really care. Steve is always trying to tell me stuff like that, so by this point, I just kinda ignore it.

The album and the book didn't really go together, like some books and albums do, but that was okay. Julie Andrews has a pretty voice, even if _Mary Poppins_ is a stupid movie. I still didn't get why Bridget Stevens thought I needed to listen to it, but I thought it was good and it felt sort of summery somehow, and I guess there was a story in there about brotherhood, not just romance. It worked out just fine.

I set down my book and sighed, then leaned against the headboard. I'd need to turn a light on soon if I wanted to keep reading – it was getting dark. And if it was getting dark, then that meant it was getting late. But I didn't know if I wanted to keep reading right now. I just listened for a bit, staring up at the ceiling. It was too hot to do much of anything, anyways. The heat made it hard to focus, even as the sun was setting.

 _"Would you vote for 'im?"_

 _"Hell, why vote at all? They're probably all shit."_

 _"What makes you think so?"_

 _"Whaddah we all care about? Vietnam? You think if he stays, we'll pull out?"_

 _"I don't know. Hell, I don't know if any of them would."_

 _"Richard Nixon creeps me out, man."_

 _"He creeps everybody out. I ain't votin' for 'im."_

 _"He ain't even runnin' yet."_

 _"He will. Ya gotta think ahead."_

 _"Man, I can barely think past tomorrow."_

All three of their voices chimed in with their own opinion, and I clutched _Of Mice and Men_ close to my chest. Thoughts about the war in Vietnam scared me enough, and politics was just too much. Mom and Dad had voted for Johnson, like it seems just about everybody else did a few years ago, but I guess nobody really liked him anymore. I couldn't see any other reason for the guys to be thinking about politics and elections and voting besides Vietnam. Is jury duty politics? Can it be? Darry wasn't really a political person. None of us are, I don't think. So if it is, Darry's screwed.

XXXXX

"Pony, you need to learn how to make cake."

I looked up from the comic page. Darry was pulling stuff out of the fridge. Looked like chocolate cake and white icing – a rare combination for us. I set down the newspaper and abandoned _Beetle Bailey_ to stand and sit up on the counter while he started on icing the cake. "I do?"

Darry nodded slowly as he worked. "You do."

"How come?"

"For a few reasons. One – seems none of us can live without it, which probably ain't the best thing for our health, but…whatever. Two – it's a life skill. And three – and this one's important – it's what you do for people for their birthday. Just what you do."

I nodded. "Makes sense."

"Sure does," he said, glancing at me and smiling a bit.

"I thought you said that if Two-Bit didn't care, we shouldn't either."

"Yeah, well, not that I take that back or anything, but I thought this would be a fun way to screw with 'im. I mean, last thing he's prolly expecting is a birthday party, right? So when Soda gets home, we're gonna party."

And we partied in our own way. Darry's got this spidey sense about things, like I guess we all do about each other, because Steve and Sodapop and Two-Bit all eventually rolled in, one by one, Sodapop bitching to Steve about his date last night and how Steve and Evie should be legally barred from playing matchmaker. Soda had told me about his date last night, and told me that while the girl wasn't so bad-looking, she was kinda boring, and by kinda he meant _really_. And just when Soda had thought he'd buttered her up enough to get a kiss, she'd slammed her door in his face. That's tough.

"Look, plenty of fish in the sea," Steve had assured him. He and Soda were in on the plan and searching for candles. I was in charge of the lighter, which took just a reach into my pocket to find.

"Sure," Soda scoffed, slamming another drawer shut. "And eighty percent of 'em are garbage fish."

Steve just snorted and muttered _"Garbage fish?_ " Soda's creative in his own way, I guess. He and Steve took the cake from Darry and started poking in candles right as Two-Bit pulled up, and I had the lighter ready to go as he waltzed in. He seemed to recognize immediately what all this was, and slowly walked into the kitchen as I started lighting them and Darry turned out the lights.

"The hell is this?" He asked, sounding a bit baffled and not quite like himself. Darry smirked at him, and for a split second I understood why they were friends. He steered him into a chair and shoved him down into it and smacked the back of his head, which made the rest of us laugh and Two-Bit bite back a grin.

"Make a wish, asshole."

Two-Bit looked at us all with his eyebrow cocked. "What, no singin'?"

"You really wanna hear us sing?" Steve asked, and Two-Bit laughed.

"Fair 'nuff." He blew out the candles and the rest of the guys started whistling and hooting. I just smiled at Two-Bit and then at Darry. Darry could surprise you, he really could. I'm starting to see that now. One minute, he's all over my ass, nagging me and all that; the next, he's making birthday cakes for his buddy, even if it is a couple days late. And maybe Darry was trying to prove a small point, but Two-Bit was good-natured enough to not care, not even a bit. "Am I official now?"

"Ya made it another year," Sodapop said, clapping his shoulder.

"Guess I did. Woohoo," Two-Bit deadpanned, but he was still smiling.

"What'd ya wish for?" Steve asked.

Two-Bit clucked his tongue. "Randle, ya know if I tell, it won't come true."

Steve and Soda started joshing him while Darry pulled out the candles and cut the cake. I just sat in my seat and watched it all going on around me, and a strange sort of warmth spread in my chest. There were people missing from this scene, sure, but the five of us seemed to fill up this space pretty well, and I thought to myself that Two-Bit didn't need to wish for anything.

XXXXX

 **AN: I don't own anything recognizable, like _Camelot_ , for example. Thanks for reading!**


	7. The Summer of Love

**Author's Note: Hey, y'all! Thank you for being patient with me – college is a big adjustment. But we're back to it!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

I made a _really_ good investment.

XXXXX

"You have to be jokin'."

"Ain't that usually your beat?"

Two-Bit gave me a withering look from over the top of his sunglasses. We were really running out of things to do, so I guess we'd been reduced to hanging around the discount store. Man, we must be the least creative people on the planet, and I can definitely imagine that Two-Bit is getting sick of hanging around me when even _I_ know he'd much rather be hanging out with his, well, girlfriend. I know I would if I were him – I'm a dullard, and Bridget Stevens has better legs. But I mean, it was barely July, and here we were.

We were standing in front of a discounted kiddie pool. And I was going to buy it.

"Don't you have anything better to spend yer money on?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly. There's not much I really wanna buy, 'sides Pepsi and cigarettes. Who says I can't buy a kiddie pool?"

"Kid, you'll look like white trash."

"I thought we were white trash?"

Two-Bit tilted his head – touché. "Yeah, but we're tryin' to improve our station."

"We are?"

My buddy was clearly getting fed up with me and my one-sided game of twenty questions. Two-Bit usually doesn't get enough credit for it, but he's got the patience of a saint, even if he doesn't share any of the other saintly qualities. I just grinned at him. I was sure in a funny mood, but hey – I've had a lot of crap thrown at me already this summer.

"You think you could find something better?" I challenged. Two-Bit looked around stealthily.

"And for cheaper," he mumbled, trying to look inconspicuous.

"You're going to _steal_ from a _discount store?_ " I hissed, and Two-Bit shushed me.

"Quiet down, kid. But, yeah. I'm just gonna…take a stroll, m'kay? See ya in a few."

Then he waltzed off. Ya know, you would think that maybe Two-Bit would sorta…grow out of something like this, constantly using the five-finger discount, but he hasn't yet, not entirely. I think he likes the challenge. Actually, if we're being totally honest, for a bum like him, I think he likes the challenges life throws at him – I think he likes sticking it to the universe. He's poor, so he swipes as much crap as he can. He's a redneck, but he somehow managed to snag one of the cutest, wealthiest girls in town. Life was a crapshoot, and I think he liked that aspect of it; he grinned in the face of adversity. But he should still cut back on the stealing.

I looked back down at the kiddie pool. It was plastic, light blue, with little wave imprints in it. Of course, it wasn't very deep, but I think I could make it work. I looked back up; there was a lady who looked like a mom working her way slowly towards me, and I knew what she'd be thinking once she saw it. She'd want to get her hands on this thing for sure, and it was the last one! So I did what any sane person would do and I grabbed that sucker up, and awkwardly carried it to the cash register to pay the two dollars and sixty-eight cents it cost. The old lady behind the counter gave me a gummy smile.

"Got li'l' silbin's?" she asked.

"Yeah," I lied. "It's been real hot. I thought they might like it."

"Well, ain't you a sweet boy."

Let's just say it was a good thing she didn't recognize me from the papers.

I took my kiddie pool and went outside, and sat on a bench under the awning of the store, the shade infinitely cooler than sitting on the curb. A few minutes later, Two-Bit reappeared, looking pretty pleased with himself. He walked up and started to wordlessly empty his pockets of the junk he'd found. I know for sure I saw two yo-yos. He was smiling, but I scowled up at him.

"Thou shalt not steal."

His face dropped. "Come again?"

" _Thou shalt not steal_ ," I repeated more emphatically. Two-Bit looked a bit taken aback for a moment before sighing and rolling his eyes.

"Kid, Pony, man," he tiredly laughed, running a hand down his face, "I appreciate you tryin' to be my conscience – "

"Well, someone's got to," I said hotly.

"Hey, Jiminy Cricket – cool yer jets. C'mon, let's go."

I guess he was kinda ticked at me because he didn't help me carry my pool; I had to awkwardly hold it and talk from behind the lip, which made me feel like I was shouting through plastic. Which I guess I was. "Don't you believe in Hell, Two-Bit?"

"Don't you?" He retorted.

"I guess. But ain't you worried that this stuff'll catch up to you?"

Two-Bit barked a sarcastic laugh. "Kid, I'mma have a lot to answer for before Saint Peter when my time comes, least of which is gonna be swipin' dime candy and kiddie toys. And I can't exactly say I'm a fan of the Big Man, so He prolly ain't a fan of me. What's with the concern? You haven't been one to worry about my soul – that's my mother's job."

I had to set down my pool so I could adjust my grip on it. I guess Two-Bit – who can't stay mad at me for long, thankfully – took pity on me, and he took one end and I took the other and we carried it home. It once again looked like rain, and the greying skies made my heart clench a bit. "I ain't worried about your soul."

"Seems to me that you are."

"Do you really think you're going to Hell?"

Two-Bit was getting tired of me, I could tell, and he's usually the only person besides Sodapop who could tolerate me. I was running out of friends, and fast. Maybe I should take Evan Peters up on his offer to go to his lake house for a bit, give the guys a break from me. They deserved to have a nice summer vacation, too, and I'm sure Darry wouldn't mind it, either. I seem to just stress people out.

"Kid, I don't know," he grinned, but I think that was just to keep himself from yelling at me. "I don't know what's gonna happen to me, I don't know if it's even _real_ , all I know is that I don't really care."

"What if you get caught?"

"I _have_ been caught, you know that. The idea is to _not_ get caught. That's the challenge."

See? That's what I was talking about earlier. He won't try in school, but he'll put plenty of effort into making sure he doesn't get caught doing illegal crap. I dunno, it never used to really bother me, but now it does.

XXXXX

The kiddie pool was definitely one of the best purchases I have ever made. Now, when I was alone for the day, instead of just sitting around the house feeling sorry for myself, I could sit in a little plastic pool and feel sorry for myself, and stay cool doing it. I filled up the pool every morning, let it warm up just a little because cold water doesn't feel good down…there, and I'd pull on my swim shorts and grab a book and just sit out there and it was _great_ , thanks very much. I missed the library, but this was okay, too. And because the library was being repaired, I'd had to do a little rereading, but not much, so yeah, it was all okay. It was all good.

When Darry saw the pool, he kinda just shot me a funny look, but I guess he figured that I could do worse things than spend a few dollars on a plastic pool, so he just shrugged and left it alone. Steve used it as an excuse to make a bunch of jokes about what a baby I am, but we'll see who's complaining when he's spent all day under cars getting sweaty and gross and doesn't even have his own personal pool to go to at the end of the day, and when he comes to me for a turn in the pool, I'll turn him away. Then _I'll_ be the one who gets the last laugh.

There were only two problems that I could see with the kiddie pool. One was that whenever Darry mowed, the grass would get in the pool and I would painstakingly scoop it out of the water, and even then I would sometimes just give up and dump it out, refill it, and then get annoyed when the grass stuck to my feet got in the pool. The other problem that in my opinion wasn't really a problem (well, not always) was animals. If I forgot to empty it, they'd end up drinking out of it. Mostly cats and dogs. Sometimes raccoons. Like this morning – some old mutt was hanging out there when I walked out of the house. I approached him carefully, hoping he wasn't mad with rabies or something.

"Hey, dog," I greeted. He didn't seem to hear me. I tried again. "You thirsty?"

He still didn't seem to hear me. He was just lying by the pool, not doing much, and I got kinda concerned that he was dying or something, but I didn't want to touch him or anything because, you know, rabies. Apparently, once you start noticing symptoms of rabies, you're already a goner, so I kept my distance. But this little guy seemed nice, just tired. I crept a little closer. I couldn't tell what he was a mix of, but he was kinda medium-sized and dark. He must have sensed me coming because he looked up, and we stared at each other, but he seemed cool, so I stuck out my hand and let him sniff it. Then he let me pet him, so I came to the conclusion that he wasn't rabies-invested and we could hang out.

"I'm just gonna sit here," I told him when I got in my pool. It was the temperature I liked it, so I just sat in there and read my book while the dog came over and lay down behind my back.

"Howdy, Ponyboy. See ya found my dog!"

I turned around. There was Howard Long again. I waved at him. "He's your dog?" Damn. I was hoping to take in a stray. But I doubt Darry would ever let that happen.

"That he is. Been lookin' for 'im. Did you find him, or did he find you?"

"He found me, sir."

Howard laughed. "Fair 'nuff. He gets out sometimes, hope he's not a bother."

I shook my head. "He's no bother, Mr. Long. Does he have a name?"

"That Damn Dog." I guess I must have made a pretty funny face because Howard started laughing. I wasn't quite sure what sort of name for a dog that was, but it was something. "TD for short."

"Not TDD?" I asked.

"Naw. That sounds stupid." It all sounded pretty stupid to me, but I didn't say anything. Just nodded. "Well, hey – if you don't mind, he seems to like hangin' out with ya. Could you just make sure he gets back eventually? He usually just wanders back to get fed, the mutt."

I shrugged. "Sure. He's good company." Better company than my friends and brothers, that was for sure.

So TD and I hung out that afternoon, and he followed me inside when I made a sandwich, and I gave him a piece of ham. Then we went back outside and he let me pet him. He wasn't that interested in the water, but he let me pet him while he slept. He was still hanging around a few hours later when I headed inside to hit the head and found Two-Bit had wandered into the house.

"Woah. Who's the stray?"

I looked down. TD had followed me into the house. "Oh. This is That Damn Dog. TD, for short."

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Not TDD?"

I shook my head. "Nah, that'd sound stupid."

"Who does he belong to?"

"The Longs."

"Ah," he nodded. "Why's he with you?"

"Cuz he found my pool. We hung out. He's a better friend than you are," I said, crossing my arms. TD sat next to me and joined in my defiance. Two-Bit chewed his lip.

"Sorry kid. Ya know what they say – relationships are a lot of work. This one's more demanding than the others. Not that I mind," he added, smirking.

"Gross, Two-Bit."

"Aw, shuddup. That's not what I meant."

He brushed past me into the kitchen and started rifling through our icebox, looking for beer. But I wasn't done with him yet. TD and I cornered him in the kitchen. "Two-Bit, you can't just keep abandoning me like this."

"Abandoning?" He repeated. "Kid, I'm not abandoning you. And hell, I've got other people in my life. You're one of my best buddies, Ponyboy, but that don't mean you're the only person I wanna spend time with. And like I said, I'm kinda tryin' to make things work with Stevens, and, ya know, I really wanna make that happen."

I sighed. Well, I guess it was time to ask him the same question I'd asked Sodapop back in the fall about Sandy. "Two-Bit? What's it like bein' in love?"

He slammed the refrigerator door shut in surprise. "What? Oh. Yeah. Uh. Nice?"

God, and that was an even worse answer. I just waved him off. "You're pretty much the only friend I got anymore, Two-Bit. You know that?"

Two-Bit looked genuinely sad. "Yeah, kiddo. I do."

XXXXX

"Well this is just…just _great_."

Sodapop poked his head out of the bathroom. He was getting ready for another blind date, this time at the benefit of Two-Bit and Bridget; Bridget had apparently told Two-Bit to tell Soda that she knew a nice girl from one of the central neighborhoods, and that they were in choir together or something, and that yes, she was attractive, she didn't just have a "nice personality." I'd like to think my brother isn't so shallow, but, well, he probably is. I've heard him talk to the guys; I know what he's looking for.

"What's great?" Soda asked, and his tone suggested that he hadn't heard the sarcasm in Darry's voice and was actually expecting something wonderful. Darry held up an envelope.

"I got picked."

I was gonna ask what exactly he was picked for, but then I remembered: jury duty. Darry had to go in for this interview to get picked, and he'd come home pretty confident that they wouldn't want him. Well, guess that had all gone out the window. Darry _was_ wrong sometimes. "For what?" Soda asked.

"Jury duty."

Soda sighed and wrapped his towel tighter around his waist and strode into the living room. Darry handed him the envelope, and Soda started to read. He twisted his mouth from side to side. "Welp. What does this mean?"

Darry shrugged. "Means I gotta go in and be on the jury."

"What's the case?"

Darry rolled his eyes. "I can't tell ya that. I can't tell you _anything_ , so back off."

Soda looked a bit disappointed. I hoped it was a murder…actually, wait. Nevermind. No I didn't. "Okay, but what does this mean for us? You can't go in to work 'til this is over. What're we s'posed to do about that? Can't you get outta this?"

"You can't get outta jury duty, Sodapop," Darry said, looking slightly amused underneath his annoyance. "It's a real perk of our justice system that each of us gets the chance to participate," he said wryly.

Sodapop furrowed his brow, but then brightened up. "Hell, all's we gotta do to do that is get jailed." Darry just scowled. "Anyways…"

"We'll talk about it later," Darry sighed, and I knew that they'd stopped talking about it because of me, which was just as well because that's when Steve and Two-Bit decided to show up, all in a huff.

"Are you hearin' this shit?"

Steve blustered into the house, Two-Bit hot on his tail, and immediately turned on the radio. The DJ, who had a real funky smooth voice, was wrapping up his spiel, saying something about how he was just gonna shut his trap now and let the music do the talking. My brothers and I looked at them funny, having missed the DJ's whole intro. All I heard was something fading in. "What is it?" Sodapop asked.

"This is the _second time_ they've played it, and they're playin' it all the way through," Steve said.

"Playing what?"

Steve looked to Two-Bit, who sighed in resignation and said, "It's called _Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band._ " He didn't sound all that happy that he knew that. Or maybe he was just embarrassed to know it around us, because then he added, "It's the new Beatles album."

"You can't escape it," Steve said, shaking his head. "It's everywhere."

I listened carefully, which seemed to be what everyone else was doing, too. I'd never heard of a radio station playing a whole album all the way through, and certainly not _twice_. I remembered that this was the album that Curly and that blonde girl at the party said I needed to listen to. Now, I wouldn't have done that voluntarily, but now that it was just playing on the radio, I don't know – it kinda…rocked.

Soda nodded his head from side to side. "Groovy," he surmised. Steve's eyes went wide.

" _Groovy?_ " He repeated. "Take that back."

"Aw, I dunno, Stevie, it ain't so bad," Two-Bit said happily. "It's better than their other stuff."

"You're all traitors. Darry, whatta you think?"

"It's fine." Darry didn't have time for music.

"Pony?"

I shrugged. "I like it." Again, Steve shook his head. This was going against our entire belief system – Elvis had always been in, and The Beatles were out, on our side of town, at least. But I feel like we haven't heard much from The King lately, so I guess this was just the natural order of things. And I hated to admit that Curly was right but – yeah. He was right. It was worth it, all five of us just sitting there and listening all the way through.

"Of course _you'd_ like it," Steve said to me as he left. "You've got flower child written all over ya."

Later that night, I had to ask Darry what a flower child was.

XXXXX

We were somehow the only people in Crutchfield Park that night. I guess people thought it wasn't the best venue, but I don't know – we could always see the fireworks pretty well from here. Maybe the people in our neighborhood would rather just burn down their own yards. That's what Steve and Soda had wanted to do, buy a bunch of fireworks and set them off from our place, but Darry being as smart as he is knew that it wouldn't be as simple as that. Any fireworks display that Steve and Sodapop were in charge of would probably kill us all, or at least burn down our house.

"How'd it go the other night?" Steve was asking about his blind date. Sodapop just shook his head.

"Ya don't wanna know. 'Sides – little pitchers."

Soda was referring to Sadie Mathews. She and Evie and Evie's younger sister, Beth, had tagged along with us. The gang liked to insinuate a budding relationship between me and her, but Beth…well, she was Beth. She was a little too much for me, and I didn't want to date anybody anyways. Two-Bit kept glancing over at Steve and Evie, and I'd bet money that he was wondering why the hell Bridget Stevens wasn't here, or why he wasn't with her. I think that's how relationships work, at least.

"I wanna hear, Soda," Beth said sweetly.

"Yeah, Soda, I wanna know, too. Is Stevens really such a poor matchmaker?"

Soda then told them all about his second horrible date in a matter of days, this time _almost_ getting to kiss her before her old man threw open his front door and threatened to put a cap in him. But he said it hadn't been that spectacular an evening, anyway. Guess the girl had been a little too fickle for his taste, even if she was decent-looking.

"Two-Bit, you're now officially banned from setting me up, too."

Two-Bit looked askance. "What? I wasn't even the one who set you up! Look, it's not like I _wanted_ to become part of Operation: Get Sodapop Laid, but I was just the messenger. Take it out on Stevens."

"Fine, then," Soda said happily, "I will."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

Sadie poked my arm. I looked down at her. She and I had been relegated to the kiddie corner, probably because she's ten and I spend my days in, well, a kiddie pool. "What does 'laid' mean?"

"It means sleeping!" Two-Bit called over to us. I was surprised he'd even heard the question. Maybe he'd been anticipating it, in which case, he shouldn't have even said it in the first place.

"No it doesn't! That makes no sense!"

"No more questions!"

Sadie rolled her eyes and looked back up at me. "I don't see how you can be friends with him. He's insane." I chuckled.

"He's not so bad. You're just sayin' that cuz he's your brother."

"If he was your brother, that's what you'd be saying, too."

Sadie smiled at me like she had just shared her biggest secret and entrusted it with me, and she looked like a little grown-up for a second there, more grown up than I probably ever have in my life, and she's ten years old. Ya know, maybe she's not so bad. All us guys have always been kinda wary of her, mostly because of Two-Bit, who prides himself on being pretty chivalrous to his sister and his dates alike. We mostly just forgot that Sadie even existed, but maybe that wasn't fair to entirely ignore her. She was experiencing a lot of the same things we were experiencing, even if from afar and from a totally different, little kid perspective.

"Jesus, Sodapop, what is that?"

Soda had a few unlit matches in his teeth as he pulled out a box of sparklers. He lit up a few and passed them down to Sadie. "For the little lady," he explained.

"What about me?" Evie asked. "Don't I get a sparkler?"

Suddenly, everyone was clamoring for a sparkler; even Darry accepted one. Soda, the patron saint of pyrotechnics, started lighting up sparklers for everyone. Sadie and I drew pictures for each other with the light, the impressions burning into our brains. By the time we were through the whole box, the real show had started.

There's nothing quite like the Fourth of July. It's a holiday all for making noise and eating junk food and being glad we live in a country where we get to do things like jury duty. People sure do complain about it here a lot, but at least once a year, we can agree that we're glad we at least have a country to complain about. Again, I don't know much about politics – I don't know if any of us really do – but I do know that there's something special about it. People shut up and watch fireworks. Gals like Evie will rest their chins on top of the heads of guys like Steve. Big brothers like Two-Bit will let little sisters like Sadie climb up on their shoulders so they can see the show better. And brothers like me and mine can just sit on the grass and just hang out like nothing's ever gone wrong. I don't know much about American history, either, really, but I know enough that I think this is what those guys back a couple hundred years ago had in mind.

XXXXX

 **AN: Thanks for reading!**


	8. We Don't Talk About Vietnam

**Author's Note: A _big_ thanks to all of you for supporting this story! **

**Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

When Darry suggested we go out for dinner, Soda and I were instantly skeptical. Sure, Darry started jury duty on Monday and wasn't gonna be home much, but that was sorta par for the course. We also didn't have anything that needed celebrating at the moment. So either Darry was doing this just out of the kindness of his heart, or something bad had happened and he was going to break the news to us. Darry seemed to be in a fairly decent mood as we drove to the restaurant, letting Sodapop crank up the radio as loud as he wanted to The Kinks and The Doors, me and him singing along like banshees, and Darry didn't bitch even once. Yes, this was a suspicious situation, but I was having too much fun to really think about it.

The restaurant was hoppin' on a Friday night, and my good spirits held up as the hostess seated us and let us look through our menus. The jukebox was playing all the hits – "I'm a Believer", "Respect", and "Penny Lane"…not all of them rocked, but I couldn't help but feel that they fit the atmosphere perfectly. We ordered burgers and fries and an extra basket of onion rings, and our waitress kept refilling my Pepsi, and I was with my brothers for a night out on the town. Things were looking up! At least for the evening, but I was going to take what I could get.

"So what's the occasion, Dare?" Soda had finally asked the million-dollar question. He chomped down on a piece of ice. "Ya get a raise or somethin'?"

Darry laughed a little. "I wish. Naw, I just thought it might be nice, what with me havin'" – he rolled his eyes – " _jury duty_ and all that – "

"And yer gonna tell us all about the case so we can help solve it, yeah?" Soda asked with a mischievous smile.

"Again, not how that works. But, uh, there was somethin' else, too."

"What's that?" I asked as I carefully considered which onion ring to sink my teeth into next. Had to pick just the right one, and then be very careful while eating it, or else you'd end up with just slimy onion in your mouth with none of the battered goodness. Darry sighed.

"I got a call this afternoon. One of the guys I played football with – Frank Slocomb, 'member him?" We nodded. I vaguely did. I think he was a lineman or a tight end or…okay, I forget. "Well, he went straight to the army outta high school. He was over in Vietnam and, uh…"

Soda and I glanced at each other. Darry didn't exactly seem all that _sad_ , at least not outwardly, but he didn't exactly seem comfortable with coming out and saying what had happened, something Soda and I had already figured. You hear about it all the time on the news – see it, too. It's just about inescapable these days.

"Sorry 'bout that, Darry," Soda said quietly, and I nodded, not knowing anything else to say.

"Thanks," Darry sighed, still not looking very sad, but a bit befuddled with his narrowed eyebrows. "Anyways, funeral's on Sunday, so I was gonna go. You guys don't have to come. I just…I wanted to let y'all know, and I just…" He shrugged. "Dunno. I've just been thinkin' about it a lot, and I thought this might be a way to get my mind off things for a bit, but that didn't exactly work. Not to be a downer."

"It's okay," Soda said, always reassuring. "'Sides – there ain't no point in ignoring it. That ain't gonna make the problem go away. No use in avoiding it, right? We're just sorry about yer buddy."

Darry smirked and thanked Soda, and then we slowly got back into the meal and just trying to feel normal after hearing something like that, and we mostly got there, but I couldn't stop thinking about what Sodapop had said, how there's no point in ignoring all of it. I couldn't help but think that it must be on Soda's mind a lot, the war, considering that since Darry was our sole guardian and I was still too young, it would be his number to come up. The thought of Soda or Two-Bit or even Steve going over there was a lot to think about. Picking just the right onion ring seemed a lot more trivial in the face of that, so I just grabbed the first one I saw and stuffed it in my mouth.

XXXXX

I heard my brothers talking that night, after I'd gone to bed. I heard Darry tell Soda that the biggest reason he didn't want us to come is not because of Soda, but because he didn't want me to go to anymore funerals, and I needed a babysitter.

XXXXX

"Ponyboy!"

Seems I can't go anywhere these days – not even my own driveway! - without someone knowing me or wanting to talk to me because there was Bridget Stevens, smiling real wide at me and walking down the street towards me in her light crewneck sweater and pedal pushers. She was too spiffy for this side of town, that was for certain. Her car was parked in front of Two-Bit's house, but she wouldn't have parked there expecting to find me, would she? I don't know. Maybe she was waiting on him, or maybe dropping him off? I don't know. I have heard, though, that Two-Bit pretty much demands to always drive, even if it is her car.

"Hi," was all I said, hoping I didn't sound rude. "What're you doing here?"

Bridget gestured behind her. "Oh – well, I was telling Two-Bit the other day that my car has been making this funny rattling sound? And I don't know much about cars, and Two-Bit said he knows some general things, but he said that I'd be better off asking your brother for help. I stopped by the DX, but he wasn't there, so I came down here, but…" She blushed and laughed sheepishly. "Well, I realized I didn't know which house was yours, so I just parked by Two-Bit's and had him point it out for me. Then we're going to go…do something," she said with a wave of her hand. "So, is your brother home?"

I don't think she'd ever said that much to me at one time in the entire time we'd known each other. "He's on a date," I said. She perked up.

"Oh! That's nice. Well, would you tell him I stopped by? I could really use some help."

"'Course."

She nodded her thanks, and then we were quiet again. It was a bit awkward. I really think Bridget Stevens is a nice girl, I do, but there's still something about her and other girls like her that scares me a little bit, not gonna lie. I don't see how guys like Two-Bit and Soda get up the nerve to talk to someone like her – I mean, she's kinda pretty and all, like Cherry Valance, and…girls like them just make me nervous.

"I also came down here for another reason," she whispered conspiratorially, leaning in a bit. She smiled. "I heard about what happened at the library."

"The flooding?" I asked. She nodded.

"Yes. It's really too bad, and Two-Bit was telling me you were pretty upset about it." Oh, _great_. Now Two-Bit's telling his girlfriend, and probably complete strangers, embarrassing things about me. Fantastic. "And, well, I think I have a solution for you."

I raised my eyebrows. "You do?"

Bridget nodded enthusiastically. "See, my father is a professor, and he uses a couple of the rooms in our house for libraries. And it's not just history books, he's got loads of fiction, too, and I thought if you'd like, you could stop by sometimes and use it like…well, like a library. You'd have to stay in there and read, probably, but my father is so busy most days, he probably wouldn't notice. And I'm there a lot, and I think you're responsible and all that. You would treat them all with respect. Wouldn't you?" I nodded vehemently. "So…what do you think?"

Truthfully, the idea both scared and excited me. Doing this would mean hanging out on the other side of town, which wasn't exactly something I'd done much of before. It would mean that people might notice that I'm hanging around her house, and they would start to wonder why. But at the same time, I was getting sort of desperate for new material, and it really was nice of her to offer. I think she was trying to reach out to all of us in her own way, try to prove herself of something. I didn't think she had to, but she clearly did.

"Does your father know?"

She shuffled her feet. "…no. But, I just…well, you're one of Two-Bit's friends, and I think you're a nice boy, so I thought maybe you just might like the opportunity! He's got about every book under the sun – at least, that's how it feels sometimes," she laughed. "Well, anyways, I just thought I'd offer it. Let me know if you're interested, okay?" I nodded, and she smiled wide enough that for the first time, I really noticed that she's got this slight gap between her front two teeth. I was surprised I hadn't really noticed it before. So she's not built as perfectly as I expected her to be!

" _Bee!"_

We both looked in the direction of Two-Bit's voice; he was leaning against her car, and even from our distance looked like he had his eyebrow cocked and was impatiently waiting on her. Bridget rolled her eyes. "Coming!" She squeezed my arm. "Think about it, it's really no problem. Nice seeing you, Ponyboy." And then she ran off to join Two-Bit. I waved; Two-Bit waved back for her.

XXXXX

Darry's a good guy to hang around with during tough times. I think I can see that a little better now, but it's always been true. Sodapop is good for emotional support, or if you want someone to cry with, but Darry's good for the other, more practical stuff. In times of tragedy, he can still tie a tie with steady hands, and that's all you need to know. And there was really no need to walk on eggshells around him this time, maybe because this time felt different. The person that really seemed the most bothered was Sodapop, and he hadn't even known the guy – had just known _of_ him. I could take a guess as to why, but it was a tough thing to have on the mind.

I've gotten very used to death, ya know.

Darry is the master of calm in the face of it, though. I sat on his bed and watched him iron out his best pair of black slacks and white dress shirt, attacking it like he does everything else – hard and fast. He shined his black shoes until you could see your reflection in them. He had showered and smelled like a cheap but nice cologne, a talcum-powdery scent lingering beneath. That seems to be a common scent on everyone in these summer months – sweet sweat and talcum powder. He stood in front of the mirror and combed back his hair, paying particular attention to his cowlicks, and then he tied his thin black tie.

I've seen this get-up so many times now.

"You also need to learn how to tie a tie," Darry said. "Along with how to make a cake. Can't get by without knowin' how to tie a tie."

I groaned and flopped back across the bed. "Anything else I need to know?"

"If you flip your boxers inside out, you can get two wears out of 'em."

I sat straight up. Darry was smirking at me as he did the final adjustments on his tie. I couldn't decide if that was gross or actual good advice. "Oh," I said. "Um. Cool?"

"Damn straight it's cool. Pony."

"What?"

He talked while he grabbed his wallet and keys. "I know you and Soda have been thinkin' about this since I told y'all. And I know what question you wanna ask."

Of course he did. Darry knew everything. He could read minds and make a cake and tie a tie, and he was a man. I guess that's what it took. "What's that?"

"You're wonderin' what if the same thing happens to us. With Soda. And I don't necessarily mean if he dies, but if he even has to go at all."

I wondered just how the heck Darry could talk about Sodapop dying in a war like he was talking about something as mundane as the laundry. Mom and Dad died in an accident; Johnny and Dallas died in their own sort of war. This was, of course, different. A real and literal war. I saw it on the nightly news just about every night because Darry was always watching it. There was no hiding from any of it. We saw guys get shot at, bombings, every single piece of scary artillery that they used. They showed vehicles full of dead bodies and guys in body bags; guys covered in blood and bleeding like stuck pigs; just some of the grossest stuff you could imagine going on out there in the jungle. Dead bodies out the wazoo.

"What would happen?" I asked quietly. Darry sighed and finally just sat down next to me.

"I mean, you know I can't go, I've got you." Ugh. That made me feel small. "And it can't happen 'til he turns eighteen, but we gotta be ready for it. He'd be gone for…shit, a year? Somethin' like that. It would be a long time. And who knows how long this shitstorm's gonna last, but it ain't gonna be over soon, that's for damn sure."

"It's not?" I squeaked. Darry shook his head.

"I don't know. That's just how it seems to me."

"Darry? Darry, what if he dies?"

Darry looked me dead in the eye and said, the power (or maybe fear) of God in his voice, " _He won't._ "

XXXXX

It was one of those really nice summer nights.

With Darry out of the house, there was definitely a more relaxed feel, but Soda and I had both said to each other that it felt a little different this time because of the reason he was gone. No one really wanted to talk about it, so we didn't. We sat in the driveway together while Soda worked on Bridget Stevens' car, and she was there, too, with Two-Bit. Steve was helping Soda. It was funny seeing her pristine, light blue convertible Bug in our driveway; it was definitely the nicest car that's ever sat there.

There's a nice breeze kickin' up tonight, and everything's got a golden hue to it as the sun slowly sets. Someone put on the radio, and nobody bitched about what came on because it all sounded good tonight. I heard the screen door open and be gently shut – a rarity – and saw Bridget's perfectly manicured hand holding a bottle of Pepsi out to me. I accepted it and smiled at her as a thanks, and she smiled back and sat down beside me on the garage steps, which surprised me a little – I figured she would think it was too dirty.

"It really is a lovely night," she commented. "I always thought Oklahoma was supposed to be hot all the time, since this is the south or the…southwest, or whatever."

"We get plenty of nice nights like these. Nights are usually the best time, since the sun's goin' down. Not quite as hot, more bearable."

"Sure is. So – thought any more about the offer?"

I nodded and took a pull of Pepsi. "Yeah. You really wouldn't mind if I took you up on it?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. You come over whenever you want, Ponyboy."

Then we were quiet again as we watched Steve and Soda work on her car, Two-Bit contributing by telling them some of his stupid stories. Boosting morale, I suppose. I drained the rest of my Pepsi in short order and set the bottle beside me. There was a question bubbling up inside my chest. I looked over at Bridget Stevens. She was watching them, just like I was, with a content look on her face – a small smile, really – and her eyes were tracking every little move. Her hair was up tonight. She looked like a lot of girls, but also not, because now I was starting to get to know her, and like Cherry, she was different, too. I didn't think so at first – I just thought she was being polite. But now I knew better. I mean, for a guy like Two-Bit to want her so bad, there's got to be more to her than good looks. I guess that's how I connected the dots.

"Bridget?"

"Hm?"

I bit my lip, then asked quietly so only she could hear, "Do you…do you ever think about what would happen if Two-Bit got drafted?"

I thought she was going to yell at me or something for even asking a question like that, but instead she just looked at me with worried eyes. "I can't say I really think about it. But I guess he'd have to go. I'd like to think I'd stick with him." She turned away and rested her chin on her knees. "It hasn't happened yet. I guess I'm hoping it won't last long enough for it to happen. But I know it might."

"It could happen to any of them," I whispered, both to keep quiet so they couldn't hear, and because it was hard to admit to out loud. It made my heart ache to think about. Right now, they were right there, and so real. It was hard to imagine them anywhere else but right here in Tulsa. I _needed_ them here. I couldn't imagine them in drab green, wading through a foreign country on the other side of the world, and killing people. I couldn't imagine them being like those guys on the news, looking wet and dirty (bloodied) and miserable, talking to reporters about what they did that day and what horrible things were to come, or worse – see it live on television as it happened. Most of all, though, I couldn't imagine them like Darry's buddy, coming home in a box. Dead. There was so much life in the three of them, even as they just hung around in the driveway working on Bridget's car and telling jokes, that I just couldn't – and didn't want – to even entertain the possibility of any of them being dead. I refused. And then I felt guilty because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Johnny and Dallas – as surprising and sudden as it had been – maybe didn't have as much of a future as I think these guys do. I needed them here, and I needed them alive. Even Steve. It was probably selfish, but it was true.

"It could," she sighed. "But…I don't know, Ponyboy. There isn't much to do about it except hope."

Hope is such a fickle word.

"Alright, Stevens," Sodapop drawled, and we both looked over. He was wiping his hands off on an already-dirty rag. "Think she's good to go."

"What was wrong?"

"Transmission," Steve said simply. "Shouldn't be a problem now." It was obvious to me that the two of them could probably go into detail about the issue, but were choosing not to because Bridget probably wouldn't understand. She was probably pretty useless when it came to anything that required getting your hands dirty, but to be fair, so was Evie – it was just a girl thing.

"Well, that's good," she said happily. "Thank you. You're sure you won't let me pay you?"

Steve obviously wanted to get her to pony up, but Sodapop just grinned and shook his head. "Nup. You're a friend, don't worry 'bout it." Steve was pinching his elbow, out of her line of sight, but Sodapop – amazingly – ignored him. "Anytime, Stevens."

That was that, it seemed. Steve gave her a tight smile, but I'm sure he'd bitch about it later, even if he didn't care all _that_ much. But hey – money's money. And she had a lot of it. Two-Bit looked pleased, though. "Wanna take 'er for a test spin, honey?" _Yuck_. Two-Bit had a thing for nicknames and endearments. Bridget pursed her lips.

"Well, it's such a nice night, and I was fine here if you wanted to wait a minute." She shot me a look, and I realized she was staying for _me_. "And you seemed to be having a good time, I wouldn't want to break that up." There was something funny about this girl. Not in a bad way, but the more I interacted with her, the more I could see that. Two-Bit raised an eyebrow.

"Alrighty," he drawled. "If you're sure."

She nodded. "I am."

So she stayed. Again, I think she's trying to prove something to all of us, that even though we're different and were raised different, she doesn't care. She's actually making an effort to be nice to all of us, which is more than can be said for a lot of people. So when she sat back down beside me on the steps and watched the evening sky turn to the night sky and the rest of them went back to goofing around, I couldn't say I minded. We just listened to them chatter as we sat silently.

"My father was a pilot, you know," Bridget told me quietly, so only we could hear. "In Italy and Germany. Did…did your father…?"

I nodded. All of our dads had. Steve's, Two-Bit's, mine. It was just something they did, and my old man wore the experience like a badge of honor. It was just something all those guys did back then. "Yeah, but he was just in the army."

She nodded. "Knowing who my father is now, I can't imagine him killing people," she whispered. "He's too gentle and bookish. But he's just as proud of what he did then as anything he's ever achieved in academia. I can't help but feel that people returning this time don't quite feel the same way, not all of them. Pony, do you think there's such a thing as a just war?"

I chewed on my lip. I watched my brother and our two best friends screwing around, their silhouettes all I could make out of them. Just vague outlines. Then I thought how it was possible that all three of them could be sent over there to die, and then have the _gall_ to actually do it, so I said, "No. I don't think there is."

XXXXX

 **AN: Thanks for reading!**


	9. Who Turned Off the TV?

**Author's Note: Warning in advance for suggestions of some dark themes. Nothing graphic, but I wanted to give y'all a heads-up.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Grand theft auto."

"No."

"Larson."

"No."

"Insurance fraud?"

"No."

Sodapop threw up his hands in frustration. "Darry! Throw me a bone here, man!"

"Nope," Darry shook his head, lips sealed. "Can't tell ya anything. Even if you guessed it, I wouldn't be able to tell ya cuz that's not how it works. It's _illegal_ , Sodapop."

Soda narrowed his eyes to slits. He'd been hard at work trying to figure out which case exactly Darry was on, and I hadn't seen him work this hard to figure out something in a long time. If he'd been this persistent in school, he probably would have done a lot better. It was driving him nuts. Sometimes he'd shake me awake in the middle of the night just to test out one of his theories on me on which one it was, or tell me he thought he saw a case in the paper or on TV that might be a contender, and then I'd hit him with my pillow and tell him to shut up and go back to sleep.

"You've got tells," Soda said loftily. "I'll know when I've got it figured."

I rolled my eyes. Couldn't we just watch some television in peace? For once? Soda couldn't get it through his thick skull that Darry wasn't allowed to tell him anything, and tonight it was just plain annoying. All I wanted to do was sit back and watch the reruns. Sodapop wasn't gonna let me. "Soda," I groaned, "leave it alone."

"Hell no!"

Darry sighed. "Soda, I can't tell you a damn thing."

"Well, I'm still gonna figure it out."

"Guess you're gonna have to start reading the paper and solving each case that comes up because _I'm not telling you anything_."

So that's what Sodapop started doing. He grabbed the paper first every morning – or if he didn't, yanked it out of Darry's hands as soon as he was up – and started scanning. At first, he wasn't very successful, but over time he started to gather up a decent amount of clippings that he thought might clue him in, but Darry wasn't any help. When you looked at it, none of it really connected anyways. There were clippings about masked robbers and shoplifting and a couple cases of assault. Something about a missing girl. Something about a guy who burned his house down for the insurance. No case updates, not exactly.

"I don't think you're getting anywhere with this," I told him. Soda just carelessly waved a hand.

"It's gonna click one'a these days," he told me. "I'm gonna see it, and I'm gonna _know_."

XXXXX

On a pleasant Tuesday morning, while Sodapop was at work with Steve and Darry was at jury duty and Two-Bit was god-knows-where, Bridget Stevens' light blue Beetle pulled up in front of my house, and I hopped in. She had the top down. I like convertibles; I like the way the wind blows your hair around, how you feel like you're flying. I think we were all fans of them. I was guessing the Stevens family was, too, because I'd seen her driving around a white convertible Thunderbird, too.

"My father's out for the day," she told me on the drive over. She had pink cat-eye sunglasses on and a black-and-white striped dress. She looked like somebody out of a magazine. Johnny had a huge crush on Colleen Corby, and she was sorta reminding me of Colleen right now. Not that I read _Seventeen_ or whatever (and don't go telling anyone that I do), but she sure looked like someone who did. "Anything in the house is fair game, except his study."

I blinked in surprise against the early morning sunlight. I didn't have sunglasses and felt incredibly stupid because of my squinty face. "Your dad has a study? Like an office?"

Bridget briefly glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, like it should have been the most obvious thing. "Well, of course he does." Right. Of course. She turned her eyes back to the road, but then she shot me another quick look. "Do your brothers know about this?" She asked, and I shook my head. "Do you…do you think they'd mind? Is this something that would upset them? I mean, I'm not trying to make things awkward for you or anything. Am I? Is this…is this some sort of _breach of etiquette?"_

I honestly had no idea what she was talking about, so I just stared at her for a minute. "Um. No?"

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Good. That's good."

The scenery changed as we sailed from the east to the west side, all going by in a blur. The houses became bigger and less rundown, the establishments more respectable-looking and fancier. I wondered if her house would be anything like the one I went to the open house for; common sense told me yes, it would be, and for once my common sense won out. We pulled into the carport of an impressive white plantation, and I couldn't help but wonder if Cherry lived in a house like this, or her friend Marcia. It was big – maybe even too big. Bridget threw the car in park and got out, pushing her sunglasses up on her head and leading me inside through a door off the side of the house leading into what I think is called a mudroom. As soon as I stepped inside, my body relaxed because of the air conditioning. I felt like I'd died and gone to Heaven. Yes – yes, _this_ is what Heaven feels like. Heaven has central air.

I followed Bridget into the kitchen, which had a light blue color scheme. "You can leave your shoes on," she said, throwing her keys into her purse and then her purse onto the kitchen table. "You want something to drink? Hungry? I could make you a sandwich or something." I blinked again in surprise. What the heck? For some reason I guess it baffled me that she knew how to make a sandwich. She was clearly eager to play hostess. Bridget watched me with confused eyes. "You know – a sandwich? Two pieces of bread, cold cuts, lettuce. Maybe some mustard if you're feeling adventurous."

Oh, yes. Yes, she and Two-Bit were perfect for each other. I could see that now. Just like Steve and Evie and their matching snarky attitudes. "I'm good right now, thanks."

She narrowed her eyes. "I think I'll make you one anyway. I want one, so it's no trouble. But I bet you want me to shut up and show you where everything is, don't you?" I nodded, probably a bit too eagerly, and she smiled. "That's what I thought. Come with me."

I followed her as she weaved us through her gigantic house, past the living room (which, I might add, apparently had a color TV in it) and the room with a sleek, black grand piano in it upstairs. The wood floors were so shiny that I suspected they were slippery as hell. After a bit more winding, we stopped short in front of a set of double doors. Bridget looked at me seriously.

"Fair warning – some of the stuff in here is valuable and _breakable_. And I'd take the fall for you if anything happened, but I don't want it to come to that. So consider this me trying to cover both our asses." She pursed her lips. "But I trust you. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean."

"Alright then."

She pushed open the doors and let me go in first, and my first thought was that I was instantly envious. It looked like something you'd find in some sort of Ivy League school. Just…wall-to-wall. There was a record player in there, too. Probably didn't have any Elvis in here, though. I wondered if the room was like this when they bought the house, or if her father had done it up like this after they'd gotten here. "Woah," I said simply. Bridget looked pleased.

"I thought you might say something along those lines. Most of these are my father's, but some of mine are in here, too, though most of my books are in my room. Besides, you'd probably think they're girly or something."

I sat down in a chair and peered at the titles on one of the shelves. "What sort of books do you like?"

She shrugged. " _Little Women_ is my favorite. I guess I like those old romance novels, too. Like _Pride and Prejudice_ or _Wuthering Heights_ , I mean. Not that du Maurier trash." I didn't know who that was, but I nodded. "I think Dad keeps some copies of his books in here, too."

I raised my eyebrows. "Your dad has written books?"

Bridget laughed. "Yeah, but I don't think you'd like any of them. They're not stories – just stuff about history. Not that history can't be interesting," she added quickly. "But they're academic texts."

"Oh."

She fidgeted a bit. "Two-Bit told me that you wrote a book, too."

 _Grr._ Two-Bit Mathews and his big fat mouth – can't keep from running it. I pushed a breath out my nose and counted to ten. "I didn't write a book. It was just a theme for school."

"He told me that a couple of my friends were in it. Cherry and Marcia."

I drummed my fingers against the bookshelf, not quite sure if she was getting at something or not. What all had Two-Bit told her about it. "Yeah, they are. They're nice girls. You should be glad they're your friends."

Bridget looked vaguely hurt. "I am," she said softly. "He also told me it was about what happened in the fall, and I just wanted to say that I think it's very brave of you to have written it. That's all."

I felt embarrassed. I could feel my ears and cheeks heating up. "Sorry," I mumbled. "You're not in it, ya know."

"Don't be sorry. And I know. I don't need to be. I wasn't really a part of it." She pursed her lips, clearly thinking about her next move. Then she put a hand on my shoulder and rubbed just a bit with her thumb. She gave me a small smile. "Have fun in here, Ponyboy."

Then she left. I turned back to the shelves, quickly scanned them, and then just picked something at random and dove right in.

XXXXX

"Hey, TD!"

TD sauntered up to me and did what he always did – he sat behind my back as I sat in my pool and did nothing. It was a pretty hot evening, and I had the radio on, listening to The Chords – _"Oh, life could be a dream…!_ " – and absentmindedly petting TD while the sun slowly set. It was a little too hot out still to read, so I didn't. At one point, the back gate opened, and I turned around and saw Two-Bit and Steve walking through, both of them looking sorta serious. I raised my eyebrows.

"Hey," I waved.

"Hey, Pony," Two-Bit called back. He patted TD's head, which he seemed to like. Both of them looked uncharacteristically concerned.

"Whose dog is this?" Steve asked, looking to Two-Bit.

Two-Bit simply said, "Long's," and Steve's eyes widened and his mouth formed an 'o' shape. I was confused.

"Why's that matter? He's allowed to hang out over here," I defended.

"You seen anything weird goin' on around here today, Pony?" Two-Bit asked, ignoring my question. "Anything strange? Did ya talk to anybody today, have a conversation that rubbed off on ya wrong?"

I turned in my pool so I could look up at them and rested my arms on my knees. I was confused – _nothing_ had happened here today. It had been the most boring, ordinary day that I could think of. It had been a summer of boring, ordinary days. For the most part, that is. I was starting to get the feeling that maybe something had happened in the neighborhood today that I maybe should have been aware of. Or, maybe not – it's just surprising to them that I wasn't, maybe. "No, I didn't…"

"Either of your brothers home?" Steve asked. I shook my head.

"No. But if you were askin' me in the first place, you can tell me what's goin' on. What's up, guys?"

They exchanged a look, and Steve sorta tilted his head to the side, in Two-Bit's direction, which I guess meant that Steve was silently telling him that he was gonna have to be the one to tell me. Two-Bit sighed and rubbed the back of his neck – a nervous habit. I was starting to get a bad feeling, and the only thing I could think was that if Two-Bit was having a hard time saying it out loud, it had to be pretty bad. He sighed. "Um. They, uh, found a girl in the Long's backyard."

"Well – sorta in their backyard," Steve amended. "She wasn't inside their fence, but she was just on the other side."

I was confused. "What do you mean? They found a girl…? What was she doin' there?"

Neither of them said anything at first, but I figure that's because they didn't quite know what to say. "Pony, kid, she didn't choose to be there. Cops found her in a shallow grave."

"Dead," Steve added unhelpfully.

My heart sank into my stomach, and I looked down at TD and wondered if he had come over for a reason. The sun had sunk low enough that I could look at both of them a little more comfortably, and I could now plainly see the worry on their faces, even Steve's. Both of them looked a lot older than they were. I felt a bit sick. I didn't know what this meant.

"Come inside," Two-Bit finally said. "C'mon, we'll tell you the rest."

I stood up, the bottom half of me dripping wet, and followed them inside. TD followed my wet footprints that I was leaving behind on the porch and came in, too. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around my waist, and the three of us sat at the kitchen table, TD at my feet. I wanted one of my brothers here, but I was getting the feeling this wasn't the sort of thing that could wait.

"Officer Wells was the one filled me in," Two-Bit told me, his hands folded on the tabletop, looking like he was some sort of _adult_ or something. It was kinda freaking me out. Steve narrowed his eyebrows.

"He did?" Two-Bit nodded.

"Sure. I asked, he answered."

"Why in the hell would he do that?"

"He likes me," Two-Bit shrugged. Steve glanced at me and mouthed, _He likes him?_ But Two-Bit didn't seem to notice, or just chose not to. "Anyways, he told me that they got an anonymous tip, and lo and behold, there this girl was. She's apparently the third like this in a number of months. They thought they'd found the guy, but then this happened."

"How do they know it's the same guy?" I asked. Two-Bit bit his lip.

"They've all been found in the same…way," he lamely explained. I was still confused. "The bodies all seem to have had the same things done to them."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"Geeze," I whispered, and both of them nodded.

"And since they found her in his yard, they hauled Long in," Steve finished. "You really didn't notice anything weird goin' on around here today?"

I shook my head. "I was busy reading, I guess." Steve rolled his eyes. "But…it don't make sense," I went on. "He's a nice guy."

"Guess not," Steve spat. Two-Bit leveled him with a look.

"We don't know the whole story yet," he said reasonably. He was being much too reasonable tonight. It was a bit unsettling. All of this was unsettling. I was sick of this feeling. Two-Bit sighed and smeared a hand down his face. "What I _do_ know is that I'm never lettin' Bridget leave her house without me ever again."

"Yeah," Steve huffed. "Or Evie."

This whole thing was really making me sick. I'd only talked to him a couple times, but Mr. Long had seemed like a really nice guy to me, even if he was kinda strange. Something about this wasn't sitting right – it was all too simple. Even a drunk Howard Long could probably do a better job of hiding a body than it sounds like whoever did this did. And right in his backyard? Again, this was all seeming too simple to me. I rested my chin in my hand and the three of us just sat there quietly for a few minutes. Eventually, Two-Bit knocked a couple times on the table.

"You okay?" He asked me, and I shrugged, but then I nodded. I really wanted my brothers to get home. "You sure? You don't look it."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, and he actually sounded like he cared a little.

"I'm fine," I mumbled.

"Well, alright. Sorry about all this, kid. But we thought you should know." I nodded. They were right to tell me. I just didn't know what to make of it all just yet. "You should go change or somethin'. You'll get pneumonia sittin' there like that."

Pneumonia. Right. I nodded and stood up so I could go take a shower and change. TD followed me.

XXXXX

Sodapop had decided that with Darry gone so much these days, he'd better make the most of it by bringing home pizza three days straight. Not that I was complaining, but I knew it wouldn't last. And we sat in front of the television every night to eat, too. Darry went straight from the courthouse to his night job. I had no idea when he slept. Or ate. Or did anything.

Another thing: it was killing us – even me now - that we didn't know what case he was a juror for, and no matter how hard Soda and I worked at him, he refused to give. Darry surely was made of stone, and if I didn't know that before, I did now. But after what I saw, after what had happened the other night, I couldn't help but be curious. I couldn't! I had to know what was up now. Seems that's how we were all feeling, _especially_ after the events of the other night.

Mrs. Long had come over earlier that day, TD in tow. Sodapop had opened the door, but she asked for me. I hadn't even known she knew who I was. She looked sad and confused and kept on saying how she couldn't believe it, how it all had to be some sort of mistake, how her husband could never do a thing like that. I thought back to Steve and Two-Bit, how Steve had said that maybe he wasn't such a nice guy, how they weren't gonna let their girls outta the house alone if they could help it. I just didn't know what to think; I didn't know the guy that well, but he did live close, and the whole neighborhood knew about him – and now this whole business – and he'd let his dog hang out with me. I just didn't know what to make of any of this.

"Anywho," Mrs. Long sighed. She looked like a woman who had once been very pretty. "With this whole mess, I was wonderin' if maybe you could look over that damn dog of his 'til this all gets cleared up, or…or whatever happens next." Huh. I wondered if she was the reason TD was named how he was. I told her I would, though, and she seemed grateful, and let TD scamper on in and told me when he liked to be fed and when he liked to go outside and all that. And then she said something I don't think I'll ever forget:

"I know he's innocent. It's just convincin' everyone else. Oh, I know what people say about him, but – but I love him, you know? I can't help it. I don't know how this happened, but I'll never forget the cops just pullin' up like they did, no warnin', and stormin' into our house. We didn't know. We didn't even know."

I really felt bad for her. I've seen dead people, but waking up and being told that there was one buried in your yard? That was a different level of awful. I felt so bad that I let her hug me. She let out a little cough-like sob, and then she left. I let the screen door gently shut. Sodapop didn't ask me any questions.

"What's on?"

Soda gestured to the TV with his slice of pizza. "Local news."

I groaned. Why'd we have to sit through the news before anything good came on? I sat down behind the coffee table and crossed my legs, tucking them underneath, and grabbed a slice of pizza. We were eating straight out of the box. Why bother with plates? We had bottles of Pepsi and the box made for a makeshift plate anyway, so we were set in our eyes. The local news was usually pretty stupid. It was mostly weather and traffic and agriculture updates. Nothing real special most of the time. But that night – as you probably figured – was different. Soda and I listened intently to the Walter Cronkite-wannabe's droll.

" _…third in a string of murders of a similar kind. The case was thought_ _to have been solved after a recent suspect had begun trial, but it appears that the suspect either had an accomplice, or has been falsely accused. In all three cases, the victim has been female, young adult, and autopsies show signs of struggle and sexual assault…"_

"Jesus," Soda hissed. He looked at his half slice of pizza and threw it back down in the box. It must've been a lot for him to forget his appetite for even a second. "Some people. They're really fucked."

"I know," I said quietly, thinking again of Mrs. Long's sad face.

Then something funny happened. Sodapop moved to finish what he started (I mean, his pizza), but then he stopped. He stopped, stood up abruptly, and ran back to our room. I didn't think too much of it at first – Soda's always doing weird things – but then I saw that he came out with all those clippings he'd been collecting. He held one out to me about the missing girl, and the sexual assault ones, too. I looked up at him.

"Did Steve or Two-Bit know anything about the girl they found in the Long's yard? What she looked like?" I shook my head. This was strange, watching my brother connect the dots like this. I know this will sound mean, but stuff like this tends to hit Sodapop…a little late. "But they said it was a _girl_ , right? Not some old lady?"

"I guess…I mean, they talked like it was a girl closer to our age than someone a lot older than us. Cuz they was sayin' how they were nervous about their girls leavin' their houses alone. Why you askin' Soda?"

"It's just…well, they're reportin' on the story right after they found that girl. I mean, the timin's right."

Oh, man. He was right. I blanched. He was _right_. I think he was scared about that, too. "Soda…."

"I know, man. It's scarin' me, too. Ponyboy."

"…yeah?"

"I think I know the case Darry's on."

XXXXX

 **AN: We all knew it was gonna become a murder mystery at some point. ;) We'll find out if Sodapop is right or not…next time.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	10. (Not So) Good Vibrations

**Author's Note: Just wanted to let y'all know that this story will be keeping its T rating, just in case anyone was worried. It does handle heavy topics, but I don't plan on anything getting graphic.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

I guess the upside of all this alone time I had this summer was that I could go to movies whenever I wanted, and see whatever I wanted. I also didn't have to worry about the potential of getting kicked out of the movie theatre. I don't care what they say, I'm not the one who can't keep my trap shut while flinging popcorn around. So I went to go see _Casino Royale_ , which I actually bet would've gone over pretty well with the guys, but whatever. It would be cool to be James Bond – he gets all the girls, saves the day, gets to ride around in some pretty swell cars. It was a good movie, I liked it a lot, and it was over much too soon. I almost decided to just stay there and watch it again, but there was an usher with a broom that was giving me the eye, so I decided it would be best if I just left.

It was a nice enough day for a walk, anyways.

"Hey, Curtis. What's up?"

Ah, Curly Shepard. Always turning up when you least…eh, he just shows up whenever. Actually, though, I hadn't seen him since that party he dragged me to a while back. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, actually. Who knows – maybe I'd been subconsciously avoiding him. I didn't exactly say goodbye, I just disappeared. I wondered if he even cared. Come to think of it, last time I saw Curly, I'd had that nightmare about him that night. I don't know if I believe in omens and all that hocus-pocus crap, but looking at him just then reminded me of how my subconscious had drummed him up, and it was putting me a bit on edge.

"Not much, Curly," I said, trying to be casual. "What's up with you?"

He shrugged. "Eh, nothin'. Just hangin'."

That was definitely what he was doing. He was really looking like the thug he was just then, slouching against a brick wall with his thumbs hooked in his jeans, smoking, and his hair falling in his face. He looked like he hadn't bathed in days, but that wasn't an unusual look for him. I wondered if he was always this gross-looking, and if I ever looked this nasty. I sure hope not.

"That's cool," I said noncommittally. "You, uh, got any other plans?"

"Nah," he said. "So, you saw the papers, yeah?"

I raised my eyebrows. "No, what's in the paper?" Man, that made me sound stupid I bet. Like some old guy.

"About the murders."

I rolled my eyes. "You mean that girl they found? That was in my neighborhood, Curly."

His eyes darted from side to side. "Right." He was sure acting weird. Then again, Curly's always acting sorta weird. "Did you…did ya see her?"

I scrunched up my face. "No, Curly. Steve and Two-Bit told me about it."

"Did they see her?"

I sighed. "No, Curly – why's it matter?"

"But you've seen dead bodies before," he went on, ignoring my question. "You saw that soc, and then Cade, and then Winston. You know what death looks like."

"I guess…Curly, you're kinda freakin' me out, man! What's all this talk 'bout dead bodies, anyway?"

I wish I hadn't asked. Curly sighed and ran his fingers through his gross hair. Took a drag off his smoke. I know I keep saying it, but he really looked strung-out. "No reason, man," he said. "No reason at all."

XXXXX

"…so I guess I thought it was sorta girly."

"Oh." Bridget sounded a bit disappointed. I'd just finished _The Portrait of a Lady_ simply because she had said she liked it, so I guess I shouldn't be that surprised. I'm not saying it was bad, but it was no _Red Badge of Courage_. She had recommended books to me, but again, they were all sorta for girls. But I had a feeling that I'd better read _Emma,_ or I'd regret it. I think I feared Two-Bit's wrath, but that kinda droopy, sad look that Bridget gets more. "Well, nothing wrong with getting in touch with your feminine side!"

 _Ugh_.

"No thanks," I said, squirming in my seat, and she laughed to herself. I gave her a quick look; she looked so out of place on our side of town, and I don't think that would ever not be the case. Her car was too nice, and so were her clothes; she had a scarf wrapped around her head to keep her hair from flying in her face because we had the top down; heck, she even _smelled_ expensive, but don't ask me what sort of perfume she was wearing, if any – I wouldn't know. Then I thought about what Two-Bit – and Steve about Evie – said about her, how with these murders, he didn't want her alone. I hadn't noticed if they'd been happening on just our side of town, but the thought of…of…ugh. I can't even _think_ it. Can't even say it to myself. "Bridget…do you know who Curly Shepard is?"

She stiffened. "I've heard the name. I think he…he interrupted a conversation Two-Bit and I were having once, maybe about a couple months ago. That's the only time I've ever seen him. And I've never met his older brother. Why?"

She did seem a bit uncomfortable that I was asking, but I just couldn't get my conversation with him from the other day out of my head. He really had spooked me. There was just something about him that had really changed, in just a month or so. Something…something not good. "You should stay away from them. The Shepards. They're bad news."

Bridget watched me with a concerned look on her face. I felt bad for worrying her. "Ponyboy…is everything alright?" I shrugged. I really didn't know. "Well, if something were, you'd tell me, right? Or you'd at least tell _some_ body? Don't do anything that will put yourself in danger if you can help it. If you ever need my help, you have it. Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay," I said, "Thanks." And that was all I had to say, but she had more.

"You're welcome." She pulled up in front of my house. "I know you've been through…a lot, and I happen to believe that one can never have too many people in their corner, so now I'm in yours."

"You are?"

"Well, you need a woman in your life, so I guess that's going to be me, effective immediately," Bridget said with a positively cheery smile and a single nod of the head. A done deal, then. I scrunched up my nose.

" _Are_ you a woman?"

"More woman than any of your brothers or friends, that's for sure!" she said smartly. "Besides – girls mature before boys do." Yeah, that was for sure. There were still girls at school who were taller than me – some of them by a lot – and that sure made me feel like a little kid. But I wasn't done growing, so I hadn't given up hope. Yet. "Got any plans?" She asked, changing the subject. I shrugged.

"My birthday's comin' up."

"Oh!" She exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "Well, happy early birthday! What are your plans for that?"

I frowned. Did I…did I _have_ to have plans? What was with this girl and all her plans? I didn't have any plans, not ever. Or, hardly ever. Each day came and I would just decide what it was I wanted to do, pretty much on the spot. Birthdays weren't much different. I mean, I wasn't anti-birthday like Two-Bit seemed to be, I liked my birthday, but yeah – it was still just another summer day. "Um. Nothing really. The guys are probably gonna come over, embarrass me. Cake. Mrs. Mathews came over last year and said happy birthday. I think just cuz she feels bad for me, on account of the no parents thing."

"Well that's…nice. My sixteenth birthday was an affair. I mean, I only had a few close friends up in New York, but I have a big family so…yeah. This car was a present for my seventeenth."

Oh, _man_. I subconsciously ran my hands over the seat. Nice present. "That's nice, too. We usually keep it pretty small," I said, shrugging like we did that on purpose and not because we were broke. I think she saw through it, but she was nice enough to not say anything.

"Well, I think that sounds wonderful. Alright – you just…you just let me know if you need anything, okay? You just call me. Okay?" I nodded as I stepped out of the car. I got her loud and clear, I just wasn't quite sure what sort of help she could offer, besides financial. "Okay. Happy birthday, Ponyboy!"

XXXXX

I like the feeling you have when you wake up on your birthday.

The day I turned fifteen, I woke up to an empty bed, the only other living thing in the room TD on the floor beside my side of the bed. I took stock: it wasn't too hot yet, and the bedroom window was open and letting in a nice summer morning breeze; the sun was making its steady rise into the sky; it was just a really nice morning. Chirping birds and all. I felt like I was in a Disney movie. On that morning, the first real coherent thought I had was _This year is going to be different_. It's what I needed to hear, and I needed to hear it from me.

I wandered out of my bedroom still half asleep and wearing just a T-shirt and underwear. I slumped down into a chair at the kitchen table, blinking slowly as I tried to wake up. I was aware of bustling around me and a few voices saying (screaming) happy birthday, and finally registered Darry asking, "Want somethin' special for dinner?"

I nodded lethargically. "Pizza," I mumbled, because that's what I wanted every year for my birthday. Pizza and Pepsi and (Darry's, so Mom's) chocolate cake. Darry nodded once, made note of it, and gave me a hard pat on the shoulder as he walked out the door. I looked down and noticed someone had put breakfast in front of me without my noticing. Two hard boiled eggs, bacon, buttered toast, and a big glass of chocolate milk. Not bad. I usually just have to take them scrambled.

"You're a weird family for a bunch of reasons," Two-Bit told me later that day, "but it's rare to come across a trio that can't agree on how to best prepare eggs."

Maybe, maybe not.

I spent most of the day hanging around the house with TD, catching up on reading and listening to _Camelot_. At one point, I wandered into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror, hoping to find sign of even a _hint_ of facial hair, but still nothing. I was fifteen now! Fifteen had to be the year, didn't it? It had to be. That's when Soda started shaving. Surely the universe wouldn't make me wait any longer than that. Would it? It's been cruel to me before, so I wouldn't be too surprised, I suppose. Then I thought about Bridget's question about whether or not I had any plans, and when I blew out the candles that night on my cake, I realized that my fifteenth birthday hadn't really been much of anything, even though there was pizza. I mean, I understood why. Work and…and my buddies' lives, but still. It was an odd feeling. I guess the older you get, the less people care about your birthday. I mean, Two-Bit cared so little he let us forget about his. I don't get it; I think birthdays are even more important than Christmas, and that's _Jesus's_ birthday.

Yeah, it hadn't been much, but I thought of something that might make it a little more while I was eating what had to be my sixth piece of pizza or something that night. I walked into the living room where Soda was sititng watching the baseball game and tapped his shoulder. "Hey, Soda."

"Hey, birthday kiddo."

"Soda? I've been thinkin' – "

"Uh-oh."

Sodapop smiled at me and winked, and I had to laugh, even though I'm pretty sure some crumbs flew out of my mouth. "Yeah, yeah. But I was really thinkin', and I'm fifteen now – "

"Right."

"Well I was thinkin' that…well, I think maybe I'd be okay alone now. At night, I mean."

It took him a moment to get it, but I could tell when he did. I was thinking he might feel as if I was trying to hurt his feelings or something, but I wasn't getting that from him. He just stuck his bottom lip out and nodded, then clapped me on the shoulder, and I knew it was a done deal. Just like that. He smiled and said, "Fuck, man – you're a man now, ain't ya?"

And I guessed I was, if he said so.

That night, it was quiet. It was the kind of quiet I just really wasn't used to, or haven't been in a long time. The room was just so _still_. TD hopped up onto the bed with me, circled, and then flopped down beside me. I turned my head and looked out the window, opened just a crack to let in a nearly-non-existent breeze, and listened to the crickets and cicadas sing their nightly song.

XXXXX

Darry told me that if TD was gonna hang around the house, I was gonna have to be in charge of him. That was fine by me; I'd wanted another dog for so long that I didn't even mind looking after him. And he seemed to appreciate it. I took him out for a walk in the evenings, and he stuck so close that I didn't even need to bring a leash. Something about walking around with a dog made me feel a little safer, which may be stupid, but it did.

"Hey, kid!"

Two-Bit was walking toward me, baseball bat slung over his shoulder and shades on. "What's with the bat?"

"There's this kid that hangs around Crutchfield and I pay him a few bucks to let me get hits in sometimes. He loads up the machine and I just let 'em fly," he grinned. You'll never meet someone as in love with baseball as Two-Bit Mathews, or as in love with football as Darry Curtis, Junior. He patted TD's head. "I was headed your way now, yer brothers home?"

"Soda and Steve should be on their way back from work now."

"Then I'll walk with ya. Maybe we'll meet up with 'em."

We did eventually, and we all agreed that it was too nice a night to head in just yet, so we headed for the lot while Two-Bit hit us grounders and pop-ups. TD just ran home the rest of the way. I wasn't really all that good, even with the glove that Two-Bit had let me use. Steve and Sodapop were playing bare-handed and were better than me. Guess I really should stick to running. Maybe football if Darry gets on my back enough about it. Footballs are bigger, though, and easier to catch.

At one point, Two-Bit hit one so far that it went past the treeline, and while he looked pretty proud of himself, the rest of us just groaned in annoyance. "Aw, Two-Bit! C'mon, man," Soda laughed.

"What? I can't help it. Pony, that was your area – go get it."

I groaned but ran after the ball anyways, not _really_ minding. I ran to the edge of the lot, a bit past the tree line, pushing aside branches and shrubs as I searched for the ball. I heaved a happy sigh when I saw it; it had rolled up against a mound of dirt. I bent down to pick it up and was all ready to leave when I noticed something in the dirt. I narrowed my eyes and crouched down and picked it up to inspect.

" _Ponyboy!"_ Someone yelled off in the distance. _"Didja find it?"_

"In a minute!" I called over my shoulder. I turned the object over in my palm; it looked like a fake fingernail, the ones you could get at the salon, like the one Evie's mother owned. It was bright red. The gears started turning, and I knew that as soon as I thought that something fishy was up – call it a hunch – there was no turning back. I also knew that I probably wasn't gonna find anything good, but my mind couldn't leave it alone. I started digging at the mound of dirt, my heartrate picking up as I went, not finding any more fingernails, but all of a sudden my hand met with something fleshy-feeling, and I realized that I'd found an arm. A freaking _arm._ I screamed. Like a girl. I screamed bloody murder, and kept screaming even after the three of them had run in and found me sitting on the Earth's floor. Soda pulled me up onto my feet and wrapped his arms around me, probably trying to get me to stop.

"Holy shit," Steve breathed. Two-Bit nodded, looking pale.

"I'll call the fuzz," he said, and ran off towards my house, probably. Steve watched his retreating back, and I remembered what he said the night of the rumble, how nobody called the cops in this neighborhood because they knew better. I don't think this was one of those situations.

"Let's go," Soda grunted, his voice making it sound like he was struggling to get me under control. I'd stopped screaming, but I wanted to run away. I let him guide me out of there, Steve right on our tail, and the three of us sat on the curb under the streetlamp. Two-Bit eventually showed back up.

"Guess Darry's not home?" Steve asked, and Two-Bit shook his head. He sat down besides Steve and sighed, ran a hand through his hair, then rested his elbows on his knees.

"This is fucked up," was all he said, shaking his head still. I agreed, but was still feeling a bit too shell-shocked to respond. Sodapop kept his hand on my shoulder, and I appreciated it. We didn't say anything else to each other, just sat in the quiet until the first squad car showed up. Two-Bit waved at the officer that got out, and I wondered if it was his buddy Officer Wells, and sure enough, he was. Said it on his nametag and everything.

"Boys," he greeted, nodding his head. We all stood up. "Where is it?"

That seemed like a pretty crass way to refer to a dead girl, but I guess that was all she was now – just a dead body. A shell. If we have souls, hers had gone somewhere else. Since I was the one who'd found the body, I pointed the coroner in the right direction and then told Officer Wells the story, how we'd been hitting around and I'd gone to get the ball, and it just so happened to roll up right against where someone had buried her body. I told him I'd only seen her arm, but that I knew it had to be a girl because she had those press-on nails. I tried not to look when the coroners rolled her out in that black bag. I'd never even seen her face.

"Alright," the officer sighed. He then looked over at Two-Bit. "You been drinkin' tonight, Mathews?"

Two-Bit looked a mix between disgusted and surprised that he'd asked. "What's that got to do with anything, officer?"

"We're just makin' sure you're a reliable witness," he said, but I got the feeling he just wanted to screw with him more than follow the law on this particular point. Was this some sort of joke to him? A girl was dead! Another reason not to trust the police – they just liked screwing with you. "So, Mr. Mathews," Officer Wells sighed, flipping to a new page in his notebook, "at the time you and your friends discovered the body, were you intoxicated?"

I still didn't get why he was asking. Two-Bit just shrugged. "Well, I like beer. Still like beer. My friends and I, yeah, we drink beer. Yeah, we drink beer, and sometimes — sometimes probably too many beers, and sometimes other people have too many beers. But yeah, I like beer."

"Two-Bit."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Officer Wells just shook his head as he wrote on his notepad. He was clearly used to Two-Bit's antics, and for as annoyed as he looked, he didn't really seem mad. I guess he just had a sense of humor. Maybe Two-Bit helped him along with that. Personally, I couldn't see how Two-Bit could be joking at a time like this. It made me want to smack some sense into him – another girl had turned up _dead_. "Mr. Mathews," he began again, not looking up from his notes, "I asked you whether or not you were intoxicated _at the time_."

"Oh!" Two-Bit put a hand to his chest. His words made it sound like he was joking, but his voice was dripping with sarcasm, and I started to get that he was as pissed off about the question, he was just vocalizing it and calling Officer Wells on his bull. "At the _time!_ Well, as unlikely as it seems, officer, the answer is no." When Officer Wells didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at him, Two-Bit looked at us in support. "Really! I ain't lyin' here! And I don't see why the fuck it matters, either."

"He's really not, officer," Soda said, stepping up for him before the two of them could get into it. Steve didn't seem to want to as he was the one who'd told him to shut up a second ago. Steve looked pretty stressed out, actually. He kept pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes really tightly shut. "Officer Wells, what's goin' on here? Why're these still happening?"

"Either there's more than one killer, or we still haven't found the right guy," he said, and Steve rolled his eyes.

"What sort of crack police work is this?" He spat. "How many times are you gonna get it wrong?"

"As many times as it takes, I s'pose," Officer Wells said, eyeing Steve coolly. "This ain't easy, boy. We don't have all the answers, and trust me, we're more frustrated than you are. We're doin' what we can."

Steve nodded, but I could tell he didn't like that answer. I don't know if I liked it, either. These girls were having awful things done to them and then were murdered and left all over town, and it was starting to seem like the killer was closer to us than we thought. It was one thing to live in a neighborhood where you knew that there were guys beating on their wives and kids, or couples fighting at two a.m., or hoods getting into fights or shooting off fireworks after any decent person had gone to bed. So maybe there were worse neighborhoods, like where the Shepards lived, but that didn't mean it was all roses here. It definitely wasn't – not now.

I went to bed that night a little shaken. I had gotten uncomfortably comfortable with death, but it was still always a bit of a shock. I guess I thought by this point I'd just be used to it – but I'm not. Not at all. I felt like I was moving through molasses as I got ready for bed, that my mouth was fuzzy as I brushed my teeth, that there was just a constant ringing in my ears. Darry and Soda didn't really say anything, but Darry did ask me at one point how I was doing. I told him I was okay. It wasn't a total lie, but that means that it wasn't a total truth, either. I showered and crawled into bed in just my underwear, feeling the coolness of the sheets against my skin. I could hear my brothers talking through the thin walls, which is fine – I couldn't sleep anyways.

"He's a kid!" I heard Darry whisper-shout. "He shouldn't be findin' dead bodies." He paused, and I could just picture him, braced against the kitchen table, not quite able to look at Sodapop. "He…he shouldn't have two dead parents, or two dead friends, either. He's too young for all this."

"So are we," Soda said gently. He was probably sitting right across from Darry. Him I could see running one of his hands through his thick wheat-gold hair, then using the same arm that the hand was attached to hold up his head. Soda doesn't always go in for the special moments where you look someone in the eyes and impart your wisdom, sometimes because he truly didn't have it. But then something like _that_ would come out of his mouth. Just so casually. "Man, what the hell do ya think's goin' on here?"

"Hell if I know," Darry said, but without any of his usual bite. More of a sighing tone. "It's disgusting. It's disgusting! Goddammit, why do we still gotta live in a place like this?"

"Still?"

"Yeah, _still_. What the hell's wrong with – with – with, god, I dunno who, but somebody out there's just fucked. Just _fucked_. We live in a neighborhood where a fifteen-year-old kid is comin' across dead bodies when he walks down the sidewalk. That's not okay."

I hadn't ever heard Darry talk like this. The way he was talking, that's how I talk.

"The other girls…remind me where they were found," Darry went on. "What do yer clippings say?"

Oh, yes. Sodapop and his clippings. "Um…well, there was the one tonight in the lot, one in the Long's backyard, one was found on the riverbed, and the first was found in a dumpster in an alley on the other side of town." It was weird, Sodapop acting like a sleuth. Almost like he knew what he was doing.

"All in the same way?"

"Yeah, but only the last couple have been even halfway buried. Unless you count the first one bein' buried in trash…"

"I meant…I didn't mean buried, I meant – "

"Oh! Oh. Yeah, I guess they were. Why?" Darry didn't speak for a minute. That got me to thinking, and I think it got Soda thinking, too. "Darry? Darry…is this the case you're on?"

There was a heavy beat of silence before I heard Darry admit, probably regrettably, "Yes."

XXXXX

 **AN: Two-Bit's little speech about liking beer is – oddly enough – inspired by _Brett Kavanaugh_ (barf). That whole situation is horrible, but every "I like beer" compilation had me rolling. So there's a little bit of satire for you all (and a joke that will probably age horribly.)**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	11. If You're Going to San Francisco

**Author's Note: This chapter was originally published as the one-shot _Something Inside (That Was Always Denied)_ as sort of a preview of this story. It's still up because it went through quite a few edits to fit this work. So if you recognize parts of it in this chapter, that's why!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

Darry had to excuse himself from jury duty, but he honestly didn't seem that upset about it – now he could get back to work roofing. He told me and Sodapop that with everything that had happened in our neighborhood, he was too close to it and too biased to make a fair decision, especially since I'd found one of the girls. But the thing was, with all this new evidence, the whole thing had kinda been put on hold. I really didn't understand the justice system, was what I was learning.

"I wouldn't be completely surprised if they asked you to testify," Darry told me one night at dinner. I sighed; I'd been to court once before – I didn't want to go again.

"What would I even have to say?" I grumbled. "You know my story as well as I do – it'd take me thirty seconds. It'd be pointless."

"I'm just sayin' to not be surprised if it happens. _If_. 'Kay?"

I nodded, but I still wasn't happy he'd even _suggested_ it.

XXXXX

I really only saw my family anymore when we ate.

(We needed to pick a weekend and…and just go _do_ something.)

Weekday breakfast was still just as rushed as it was during the school year, the table covered in plates and glasses and buttered toast and a plate of bacon on top of oily paper towels and the milk and the coffee and the ketchup and the butter and the jelly and discarded napkins. We were really a messy bunch, and I always got left to clean it up, which made me feel sorta sour. At least the radio was playing some good stuff.

"Man, I don't know what's in the water out there," Soda shook his head, referring to San Francisco, "but man, did The Doors really come through for me this year."

"The Doors ain't that good, Soda," Darry grumbled, sitting down at the kitchen table with his trademark egg-'n'-bacon-'n'-tomato sandwich and a cup of coffee. "The closest I think I've ever come to bein' in Hell was when I was standin' in line at the grocery store last week and that song came on – which one is it? It's seven minutes, or somethin'. It's shit."

"It's called 'Light My Fire', and I'll have you know, Darrel Curtis," Soda waved his spatula at him, bits of egg getting flung all over the place, "that it ain't shit."

"You're right," Darry shot back cheerfully. "It ain't _shit_. That's for _damn_ sure."

Soda squinted at him and shook his head like he was crazy. If you ask me, I'm kinda indifferent towards The Doors, but my opinion on The Beatles is sure changed after _Sergeant Pepper's_ came out. I know the guys don't agree with me, but they're all crazy cuz The Beatles are a _mazing_. Bridget owns the record, and I ask her to play it for me every time I go over to her house to read, and she's more than happy to do so. She'll sit in the library with me and stare out the window, just listening, while I lay sprawled out on the floor and read. I must have heard it at least a dozen times now.

(Fourteen-year-old Ponyboy would probably hardly recognize _fifteen-_ year-old Ponyboy!)

"You workin' tonight?" I asked Darry, who sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if to ask God for help. He was in a hurry this morning, but that wasn't unusual. He didn't have long to get a move on. This case was taking longer than any of had expected, and the fact that he _still_ couldn't say anything about it – even though we had our suspicions – was driving us insane.

"Yeah, I've got a shift at the warehouse. Just for a few hours."

"I'm workin' to five, same as always," Soda chimed in, even though no one asked and we already knew what hours he kept, and he sat at the table with his jelly-covered eggs, licking some off his thumb. Darry grimaced. "Guess yer on your own again today, Pone."

"Great," I grumbled. Same as always. "Guess I'll go see _Casino Royale_ again. Alone. _Again_."

"Aw, Pony, don't be like that," Soda said. "You know we ain't tryin' to avoid ya."

"I am," Darry said, smirking. I rolled my eyes. You can always rely on Darry for a dig like that. And I wasn't so sure Sodapop was right. It sure _felt_ like everybody had been avoiding me. I sighed and fed TD some bacon under the table.

"Mornin', Curtises!"

Two-Bit and Steve came in from the back, the screen door slamming so hard behind them that our plates shook. Steve pulled up a chair between Darry and Soda and Two-Bit pulled up between me and Darry, sitting backwards and leaning on the back of his chair. "It's hotter 'n shit out there," Steve sighed, pulling a piece of bacon from the plate in the center of the table, the paper towel they were resting on wet with oil and grease. "You almost ready, Soda?" Soda nodded. "Shoes?"

"By the door."

"You're still gonna forget."

"Shut up."

"What're y'all doin' here?" Darry asked. "Surely you didn't come over just to ruin my breakfast."

"Aw, _Darrel_ ," Two-Bit sighed, a grin tugging at his lips, "don't be like that! I'm the light of your life, and you _know it_."

Two-Bit batted his eyes at my oldest brother, who just shot him a wry look. "Sure," Darry drawled, shaking his head at our buddy. "Don't you got a girl to bug with that shit?" He asked, and Two-Bit tilted his head in his direction – _touché._

I couldn't help but think, while the four of them were jabbering on, that I was getting real tired of the usual routine. This summer needed to get a shake-up, but I wasn't sure what. I mean, yes, there was the whole serial killer thing, but I meant for _us_. We'd all fallen into patterns, were all just stuck in a rut, and I wanted out of it. I wanted out! "Ya know what we should do?" I suddenly blurted out, and four pairs of eyes all turned to look at me, torn away from their separate conversations. They all looked a bit annoyed with me, too, but I forged ahead. "We should all go somewhere."

They all just stared at me for a little longer, silent, exchanging little looks. Darry looked back at me. "Yeah? Like where?"

 _Anywhere!_ I wanted to scream. The goddang moon for all I cared. We could take a field trip to Cape Kennedy and ask them to shoot us into space. Wouldn't that be something. But then I had to think more realistically. "San Francisco," I said quietly, and then sat back as the realization of what I'd said sunk in. Because they all started laughing like that was just the funniest damn thing they'd ever heard in all their lives. Maybe that wasn't as realistic as I thought it was. I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Well, well," Steve sighed, wiping his eyes, "I knew it, ya dirty hippie."

"Yeah, Pony," Two-Bit jeered, "you been listenin' to too much Jefferson Airplane?"

"Shuddup, Two-Bit," I grumbled. "You too, Steve. And who's Jefferson Airplane?"

"They're a _band…?_ " Two-Bit said like I was an idiot.

I felt my face just get hotter. "Look, just cuz y'all are boring as shit –"

"Alright, alright," Darry said, trying to shut me up and get everyone else to stop laughing. "Pony, even if we could afford to go somewhere, I wouldn't wanna spend my summer with a bunch of pot-smokin' hippies."

I rolled my eyes. Darry was such a square. And such a contradiction. He didn't support Vietnam, but he grumbled every time he saw a guy who kept his hair loose and long. I don't know how he could stand to look at Two-Bit these days because that's the _only_ way he wore his hair now. Come to think of it, as I really looked at them, he and Steve and even Soda looked a little different. It was something with their hair.

"It wouldn't be so bad, I don't think," Soda said. "It'd prolly be real laid-back, ya know? And just cuz everyone else is smokin' pot don't mean you have to."

"Well, we ain't goin' anyways! So that's that," Darry said pointedly. He looked at his watch. "I'm gonna be late. I gotta get goin'."

"That's our cue," Steve sighed. "Thanks for the laugh, Pony. You're a real riot." And he and Soda got up, too, and sure enough, Steve had to remind Sodapop to grab his shoes. In a matter of just a couple minutes, the three of them had left, and it was just me and Two-Bit. Again. That was the norm, though, wasn't it? He sketched a wave at them as they left and then turned on me, smiling. I scowled again. He was clearly cookin' something up in his brain – I could see the gears start to turn, the cobwebs falling off – and I had to put a stop to that.

"Don't start in on me again," I spat. Two-Bit held up his hands. I felt a little bad that it seems that he's the one who always has to put up with my moods, but I guess he's the one who's here.

"I wasn't gonna. I get it kid – you're bored. We've been ditchin' ya all summer. Ya spend so much time alone you start gettin' into all those hippie-dippy ideas. It's bound to happen!" He smiled like he'd cracked it, but I just shook my head and pushed my now-cold eggs around on my plate. Two-Bit's smile fell and he sighed. "Really, kid. I'm sorry you've been kinda alone this summer."

Two-Bit sounded so sincere that I couldn't really stay mad, even though I wanted to. "It's okay."

"No it ain't. I mean, your brothers gotta work. And Steve…well, he's Steve, we'll leave it at that." He laughed a little. "But that means that leaves me, I guess. So I really am sorry. Cuz I know I ain't the best company in the world, but at least I'm better than Mr. Curly Shepard." He cocked an eyebrow at me and I felt my cheeks get hot. "Guess so."

That's the last time I tell Two-Bit anything. Though, to be fair, I sorta told everybody about my encounter with Curly the other day, and they'd all said I should keep my distance. They were probably right, but I still felt like I should stick up for him a little since he wasn't even here to defend himself. It's not like I knew the _whole_ story. "He ain't all bad."

"Yeah," he drawled. "But he ain't all good, either."

No. No, I guess he wasn't.

"Is there anything you've been wantin' to do lately?" He asked, continuing on without waiting for me to say anything, which is fine because I don't know if I really had anything to add to that. "I mean – _besides_ runnin' off and joinin' a hippie commune," he laughed. I just rolled my eyes.

"I don't know," I sighed. "I feel like I've done everything this town has to offer."

Two-Bit stuck out his bottom lip. "Well, I guess that means you gotta start makin' yer own fun. Know what I mean? You can't just sit around in that kiddie pool all day readin' the same books over and over while you pet That Damn Dog. Well, ya _could_ , but. Ya know. We need to make sure you stay socialized so you people don't think you're some sorta retard when you get back to school in the fall."

"Well, you got any bright ideas then?"

That's always a dangerous question to ask Two-Bit because he's pretty much a master of mischief and getting anybody with a five-hundred-foot radius of him into trouble. He may only just now be getting to is senior year, but he's not a complete idiot, especially when it comes to making a scene. But all he said was, "C'mon – we're takin' a drive."

He had a little trouble getting the truck started up at first, and I told him he needed to find a new ride. He emphatically agreed, but the old girl started up eventually and off we roared, headed towards the west side. I didn't know what to expect at first, but then I started to recognize our route – it was the way to Bridget Stevens' house. I took a deep breath and told myself to act as normal as possible because I didn't want Two-Bit finding out that I've been using her father's library. It just felt like something I should keep to myself, so I zipped my lips shut and kept 'em shut as we parked and went up the front walk, and Two-Bit pounded on the blue front door.

"If her old man comes to the door, we tell 'im we got the wrong place," he told me. I narrowed my eyebrows.

"How come?"

He bit his lip. "Cuz he don't know yet, that's how come."

"Oh."

There was a moment where I think we both held our breath as the door was unlocked and was thrown open, but it was just Bridget. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the both of us standing on her front porch. Two-Bit went the suave route; I went the Boo Radley direction. "Well, hey, guys…what're you two getting up to?"

"Or, _hi, Two-Bit, how wonderful to see you after so, so, so long!_ "

She scowled at him. "Come off it. Hi, Ponyboy," she greeted, probably just to include me, and I looked up and smiled at her. She was smiling back at me in that conspiratorial way that definitely said we were sharing a secret, and it made me feel sort of cool, ya know? That I'd been doing this thing that nobody but the two of us knew about it. Two-Bit didn't notice the looks, just jumped right in.

"Honey, I have a question."

"Well, gee, Two-Bit," she drawled, leaning against the door jamb all cool in a way I'd never seen her, "you could've just _called_ , ya know?"

He waved her off. "We were already out. Listen, that record store, the one you dragged me to a while back? Ya know, the one that reeked of reefer? What's it called?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Um. Good Vibrations, I think. It's on fifth."

"Good Vibrations?" Two-Bit repeated, and she nodded. "Jesus Christ. Alright then! C'mon, Pony."

"Wait – is that where you're headed?"

"Yeah, that's where we're goin'."

Bridget looked hopeful. "Mind if I tag along?"

"You just _had_ to let her tag along, huh?" I whispered to my buddy once we got there, looking around, keeping up a façade so he wouldn't catch on to anything. I don't know why I didn't want him to know exactly, I just knew it felt good to have a secret that for once wasn't hurting anyone.

Good Vibrations had beads hanging in every doorway and psychedelic posters hanging on the walls. I had to keep from laughing when I heard "Light My Fire" playing, imagining Darry standing in the middle of this store with that sour expression on his face that he gets. Yeah, he really wouldn't like it here. And it really did smell like reefer, like Two-Bit had said. Well…I mean, I think that's the smell of reefer. It sure didn't smell like nicotine and Sen-Sen breath mints.

"Quit yer whinin'," Two-Bit said. He was stood between me and Bridget, us in our torn-up jeans and T-shirts and her in her pedal pushers. We sure didn't look like the clientele that this store would usually attract, that's for sure. And any plain observer could see that I was their third wheel. _Great_.

"The guy at the counter, see him?" Bridget asked. "He's been to Haight-Ashbury."

Two-Bit looked at her. "That so?" He asked, then looked back at me. "You should ask him about it, kid."

I raised my eyebrows. "Is that why you brought me here? So I could talk to some stranger about San Francisco?"

Two-Bit smiled. He'd played me. "Ya got me. You were curious, though. Might as well talk to 'im, right? Get the low-down?"

The guy at the counter looked to be about their age, probably a little older. He had longer hair than I'd ever seen on a guy, wore tie-dye and a necklace. Two-Bit and Bridget had wandered away from me, off in their own little world. I approached the guy at the counter and he smiled when he saw me.

"Hey there!" He greeted happily. "I'm Matt. Welcome to Good Vibrations. Can I help you find something?"

Matt sure didn't sound like he was from around here. He had a dreamy voice and a smile on his face the entire time he talked to me.

"Oh, I'm not really lookin' for anything in particular. My friends over there said you've been to San Francisco?"

Matt lit up, as if he wasn't lit already. "Yeah, man. You thinkin' of going?"

I shook my head, but I wished I'd lied and said yes. "Nah. Curious though. What's it like? It's different from here, right?"

Matt laughed. "Sure is, man. It's great. Real different. Everyone here is so straight-laced. Bunch of cowboys and Republicans. It's just…it's so _different_ out there it's crazy. Say, what's your name, kid?"

"Ponyboy Curtis."

Matt laughed again. "Well, hey, Ponyboy Curtis. That's quite the name."

"Well, my dad was quite the original person," I said, feeling myself start to smile. "My brother's name is Sodapop, ya know."

"Wow, no kiddin'?"

"No kiddin'. And we call my friend over there Two-Bit."

"Aw, I know Two-Bit. He an' Bee come in here all the time. I think she drags 'im here, but he's a hoot, ain't he?" Well, well, well. Whaddya know. So maybe I wasn't the only flower child in the gang. And I could see why the lifestyle would appeal to do it – he would just get to bum around. (And now I sound like Darry.)

I snorted. "Guess you could say that."

"That chick he's with is always askin' me 'bout California, too," Matt said, stroking his chin. "How old are you, Ponyboy Curtis?"

"Fifteen," I said, and then instantly realized that was probably a mistake. There was no way he'd encourage a kid like me to go out there. "Why's that matter? I just wanna know about San Francisco."

"Well, it's real great," he said vaguely. "Ya know, if ya _really_ wanted to go, there's a bunch of folks I know headed out there tonight. You could tag along if you really wanted to. See it for yourself." Matt made it sound so simple. He didn't know me. He didn't know my life. There was this whole great big world out there that I wanted to see, and I was so worried I would never get to see it. And here was Matt, telling me that if I really wanted to, I could just drop everything and go. I wish it were that simple for me. "But, I mean, for a kid like yourself, I dunno if it's the best idea. A lotta kids have gone out there and gotten hurt, ya know. And you don't go there and come back the same, Ponyboy Curtis," Matt went on. "You'll be a new person. It's a whole new way."

"A whole new way of what?"

He leaned in. "Of _living_."

But that _did_ scare me. Would going change me forever? And how? And what did he mean when he said kids were getting hurt out there?

"Hey, Matt." Two-Bit and Bridget had reappeared, and she put the new Rolling Stones album on the counter. Now that I thought about it, they definitely seemed familiar with him. "Just this," she said pleasantly.

"Ya know," Matt said as he rang her up, "I was just telling your friend Ponyboy Curtis here that if you guys want, some of my buddies are riding out to California tonight. Meet back here around seven and you could go. Know you're dyin' to."

"We like it just fine here in Oklahoma, Matt," Two-Bit drawled, lighting up. Bridget looked a little upset that he'd answered for her. "Ain't that why you came back?"

"Aw, I came back cuz my mom needed help with the bills." Pretty unspectacular, huh? "But I can sure spread the word from here. And it ain't like you gotta spend the rest of your life there, ya know. You just go experience it. Too bad you missed the Monterey Pop Fest – those were some good times, man."

"I bet," Bridget said dreamily, then added quietly "I _would_ like to go."

The more you know about a person, ya know? Matt seemed to be mostly talking to Two-Bit and I, treating her more like she was just a customer than someone who was wanting some of the same things I wanted. I wondered if maybe she didn't look like someone he could take seriously. Too pretty for a place he told me could get dangerous, could fundamentally change you. But she clearly wanted it – wanted the change. Two-Bit eyed her warily, like this was the first time he'd been hearing about any of this, but I'd bet money she'd mentioned it to him before. Matt handed her the record album in a paper bag. "Just think about it, yeah? See you guys around!"

The sky had clouded over as we walked around downtown, looking in store windows. I walked a few paces behind the two of them, as they talked about things only they knew about that I knew I would get lost in. I watched their hands – my point of focus, for a few minutes – and they reached for each other at the same time. I'd never seen that. Not between the two of them, Steve and Evie do it. But at the same time they grabbed for each other's hands, and it was odd – but nice – to me to see my friend do that. I didn't even really feel like I was third-wheeling anymore or anything. I was too busy thinking. Matt said going out there changed you – but how? I just wanted to be with people who liked the same new music that I did. Who wouldn't make fun of me for liking _Sergeant Peppers_ like my buddies did. Who didn't laugh when I said I wanted to go out there without a real solid reason. Did I need a reason for everything?

"Where'd ya go, Ponyboy Curtis?"

Two-Bit and Bridget were watching me as we stood in front of a store selling televisions. The TV in the middle was set to a news program showing something about Vietnam. I cocked my head to the side and looked at them closely. "You two should go," I said all of a sudden. Two-Bit and Bridget looked at each other.

"Go _where?"_ Two-Bit asked. But I knew he knew.

"To San Francisco."

Two-Bit looked unsure. Bridget looked back and forth between us with wide eyes. I didn't know her _that_ well, not yet, but she looked to me like she was sorta scared at the suggestion – but excited, too. "I dunno, kid," Two-Bit drawled. "I mean, we've got things to do here, ya know."

"I know," I said. "But I still think you should go."

"I don't know, either," Bridget mused. "I mean…my parents, they'd hit the roof if I just up and disappeared like that!"

I shrugged. "Then don't disappear. Tell 'em where you're goin'."

Two-Bit frowned. "It ain't always that easy, Ponykid."

"Matt sure seemed to think so. And I get why I maybe wouldn't go. But that doesn't mean the two of you shouldn't. Matt said you're askin' 'bout it all the time," I said to Bridget, and she turned pink. "You know you wanna go. And you shouldn't go alone. So Two-Bit should go with you." I shrugged. It all seemed so simple to me.

"Kid, that's crazy. They leave _tonight_. I need more time to think about this!"

"Two-Bit –"

"I do want to go," Bridget said, and Two-Bit looked at her like she'd betrayed him. "I do. But don't you want to go too, Ponyboy?"

"Maybe." I turned to Two-Bit. "I don't know what I was sayin' this morning. But I think you should go, Two-Bit. I really do." Two-Bit stared at me. He stared at his new girl. She cocked an eyebrow, and I was jealous of her ability, and attempted it while they weren't looking. He looked back at me and I shrugged again. "I just think you'd like it," is all I said.

Two-Bit took a deep breath. "You better be right about that, Ponyboy Curtis, or I'm gonna kick your ass."

XXXXX

That night, I saw them off. Bridget looked like she was gonna fit right in with these people, with her crazy hair and the peasant dress she'd shown up in. Two-Bit had looked at her funny when he saw her, but hadn't said anything. Something told me he was about to see a whole new side of her. Another something told me they were both about to learn things about each other.

"You sure about this, kid?"

"I'm not the one you should be asking. It's you who's goin'."

Two-Bit shook his head. "That ain't what I mean. I mean, this is your idea. You're the one who wanted to go. Why ain't you?"

I shrugged. "Like you said – there's things here for me. 'Sides – Darry would hit the roof at the thought of me heading out there, even with you tagging along. And Steve would never stop makin' fun of me."

Two-Bit snorted. "You mean he's never gonna stop makin' fun of _me_." He leaned up against the Volkswagen van they were about to take off in, painted bright yellow and covered in stickers and decals of flowers and swirls and these amoeba-looking things. I liked it, though. I liked how colorful it was. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this."

"Yeah, well, it was my idea. So I'm sure we're both gonna have to take it."

"But maybe it ain't the worst idea, to get away from here for a couple weeks," he added thoughtfully. "Get _her_ away from here."

I knew what he was getting at, why he was worried. It's funny, loving someone enough to want to protect them at any cost. I don't know if I've ever quite felt that way, maybe I have and I just don't know it, but I think I'm realizing that there are people out there that would do the same for me. "Yeah," I said quietly. "So, uh, your mom…"

"Knows she can't stop me," he said, shrugging. "You know her. Lets me get away with too damn much." Two-Bit smirked. "Aw, kid. This is crazy. This is crazy! I hate to leave you like this. Wasn't I just sayin' earlier that I should hang around more with ya? Now I won't get to!"

I shook my head. "It's okay. Go do this. You deserve to get outta here, too. You don't wanna hang around me the _whole_ summer."

"Oh, but I _do_ , Ponyboy Curtis," he whispered, like it was a big secret. He clapped me on the shoulder. "Shit. I'mma miss you. Everybody."

"Aw, go on," I laughed, cuz if we're being honest, this was making me feel all sappy and weepy and I didn't want Two-Bit to see me cry, even though he's been putting up with my tears since I was born – literally. I heard him chuckle somewhere beside me.

"Two-Bit?"

Bridget was standing by the back hatch. She really was a cute girl, and she looked right, all backlit by the setting sun and surrounded by all this color. Everyone else had already gotten in the van, except the driver. I'd met him – he was a nice guy. There was also a black girl with a big afro; she was wearing a leather jacket with a cool patch of a panther on it over her sundress (which was sort of an odd combo, but it suited her, I thought.) She let me get a closer look at it. I wanted to draw it. Her name was Cynthia, and I decided I liked her.

"Ready?" He asked, and if you didn't know him you probably wouldn't have heard the little crack in his voice. She nodded. "'Kay…be there in a minute." Bridget nodded again, and I wondered if maybe she'd heard it, too, because she looked at him with maybe just a little bit of worry. But she didn't say anything else to us, just got in the van with Cynthia. Two-Bit sighed and grinned at me one last time.

"Be good, Ponyboy Curtis," he said, and he walked away, and I couldn't help but think as I waved to them that in a way, the Two-Bit Mathews we all knew was walking away for good. Because from what I'd heard, nobody goes to San Francisco and comes back the same.

XXXXX

I waltzed into the house before curfew but later than I've been staying out this summer. When the door slammed behind me, both Soda and Darry looked over at me. They were just sitting on the couch together, in the dark, TV on and glowing across their faces. I was surprised to see Darry home – this was a bit early for him since jury duty started.

"Where've you been?" Darry asked.

"Place called Good Vibrations. What're you doin' here so early?"

"Shift got cancelled. What's Good Vibrations?"

Soda said something about it being a Beach Boys song. I said, "It's a record store."

Darry rolled his eyes. "What'd you find there?"

"I was just seein' Two-Bit and his girl off. They're headed to San Francisco."

Darry and Soda both sat up and looked at me like I was nuts. "They're _what?"_ They asked, at the exact same time, in perfect unison. They were looking at me like I'd just grown a second head. I nodded.

"Yep. They're in a VW bus headed for California." I flopped down between them. Darry and Soda shared a look over my head.

"They just…up and went," Soda said, still confused.

"Yep."

"Damn," Darry breathed. "Ol' Two-Bit hangin' around with a bunch of hippies."

I shrugged and leaned back into the old sofa's cushions. "Didn't take much to convince him."

"That girl he hangs around with sure seems the type," Soda said, a smile in his voice, and he laughed a little. I wondered how he knew that. "So, why didn't you go?"

"Soda!" Darry burst, but Soda held up a hand to stop him.

"Seriously. With all that talk this mornin', I'm surprised you didn't just hop in and go with 'em. I mean, it'd be one'a the _dumbest_ things you'd ever done" – Darry mumbled an _amen_ under his breath – "but I woulda got it. Why you'd go. So why didn't you?"

"Jesus, Sodapop, it's like you're _encouraging_ him –"

"No, he's right," I jumped in. I looked between my brothers. "But, I dunno. Something just told me not to go."

Darry scoffed. "Maybe it was _common sense_."

"Or maybe the smell of patchouli turned ya off," Soda joked.

"Maybe," I sighed, leaning against Darry's shoulder. I could feel his muscles move as he turned his head to look down at me, and I'm sure he looked at Soda in a way that said _Jesus, what's with him?_ "Maybe it was both."

I know why I stayed.

XXXXX

"So ol' Two-Bit's in San Francisco." Steve looked baffled, hands on his hips and shaking his head ever so slightly. "Imagine that."

"I am," Darry shot back moodily. "And I don't know if I like it."

"Aw, c'mon, Darry." Soda came into the kitchen and clapped him on the shoulder. "If you had the chance to get outta here, wouldn't ya?"

Darry rolled his eyes. " _Yes_ , but that's not the point. The point…the _point_ is that who knows what the hell it's like out there. You've heard them talk about it on TV. Seems nuts."

"Seems neat to me," I said. I'd been poking my tongue in-and-out of my Pepsi bottle until that point.

"Oh, we know," Steve laughed. "Darry, all they do is sit around and smoke pot and shit on Johnson. Who cares? They're too high to jump each other."

"I dunno," Darry shrugged. "The news said – "

"That's just Haight-Ashbury. Two-Bit's got a good head on his shoulders." Steve mumbled ' _surprisingly_.' "He's not gonna let anything happen to 'em. Whole city for them to see, not just one street."

"Good thing you didn't go, like all those other kids who run away from home just to step on a needle and get hospitalized," Darry said to me, shaking his head. I shrugged happily.

"I ain't got anything to run away from!"

XXXXX

A week later, we got a package and a postcard in the mail with a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge on the front and Two-Bit's all-cap scrawl on the back. Steve just shook his head when he saw it. Darry muttered something about "damn hippies." Soda smiled as he dumped a multitude of beads and tie-dye from the parcel, pulling a shirt on over his grease-stained one.

"I think they're good colors on me," Soda said, checking himself out in the mirror. "Yeah. Darry Curtis, I _demand_ you try one of these on!"

I just read the postcard over and over.

 _I've heard Sgt. Peppers more times than I think is healthy for one lifetime. Hope y'all like the new duds – seems to be all you can get around here. Everything and every one smells like pot, including me, I'm pretty sure. But hey – you can't beat the view._

 _So I guess this is a thanks for making me do this, Ponyboy Curtis._

 _Two-Bit_

XXXXX

 **AN: Thanks for reading!**


	12. Angel's On High

**Author's Note: I just want to give a big thank-you to all of you guys – thank you for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing. It means the world to me!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Ponyboy! Oh, it's so good to see you, dear."

I smiled and let Mrs. Locklear hug me. It had been a lot longer since I'd seen her than usual, and I guess I'd missed her and her mom-ish-ness. Darry and I had run into her at the grocery store the other day (because I now no longer had anything better to do than tag along with Darry to the grocery store), and she said I should stop by. Well, Darry surely wouldn't say no to me hanging out with a librarian, especially when the current alternative is Curly Shepard, so he drove me over to her house, and now here I was. Mrs. Locklear let me in, and I thought to myself that her house definitely looked like what I imagined an old-lady-librarian's house would look like. It was full of shelves full of books and knick-knacks and plants and overstuffed furniture, and there was a tabby cat sleeping in a sunspot. But for as full as it was, it looked and smelled _incredibly_ clean, and was very personable.

"I like your house," I told her, and she smiled.

Mrs. Locklear told me to sit wherever I wanted while she put together something for us. My mother was personally a fan of Tang and cereal bars, but I was going to have to wait and see. I couldn't help looking around a bit – not to be nosy or anything, but I was curious. Mrs. Locklear had a lot of pictures everywhere, on the walls and on side tables. A black-and-white one of her and a man on what I guessed was her wedding day. There were also a bunch of pictures with little kids in them, maybe grandchildren.

"So, Ponyboy. Tell me how you've been," she said, still smiling as she set down a tray with iced tea and little thumbprint cookies. I think that's what they were called. The filling was yellow, so I guessed they were lemon. I shrugged.

"Fine, I guess," I said. "There hasn't been a whole lot goin' on this summer."

Mrs. Locklear tisked and shook her head. "Oh, come on, now – I may not be as 'with it' as I used to be," she winked, "but I still read the papers."

I pursed my lips. She wasn't wrong. "I s'pose a few interesting things have happened. And not just with the library."

She watched me carefully as she took a long sip of her tea. "How are you doing with it all?" She asked, and I was glad she mention anything specific. Everyone in Tulsa – maybe even Oklahoma – knew I was the latest to find one of those girls' bodies. And I bet you she knew I missed going to the library. And plenty of other things that I couldn't tell her about, like how strange Curly was acting and how it scared me, or how two of my friends were hundreds of miles away now having a great time and probably not even thinking about me.

"Okay, I guess. It hasn't been all bad."

"Of course not," she said. "Nothing ever is all of either-or. You take the good with the bad. The readiness is all." I smiled because I now knew what she was referencing. "You shoulder your burdens remarkably well for such a young man."

"If you say so," I said shyly, and from her I took that as a compliment. But I was ready to change the subject. "Is that your husband?" I asked, pointing to the wedding portrait. It was probably a dumb question, but…yeah. Mrs. Locklear lit up.

"It is! Yes, Dennis was a wonderful man." Uh-oh – _was_. "He passed a couple of years ago, but we spent a long, wonderful time together."

She didn't sound too sad, but I still felt bad for bringing it up. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"That's alright."

"Do you think about him a lot?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Oh, I suppose I do. But the hurt gets less and less as time and life go on. Know what I mean?"

I definitely did.

XXXXX

"You know, maybe you could get out of here for a little while."

Darry probably didn't notice because he was driving and therefore watching the road, but I looked at him funny. What did he mean by that? Get out of here? He and everybody else had laughed in my face the other day for suggesting just that. Or maybe they'd just been laughing at the destination, but hey – Two-Bit was there right now, probably having a grand old time without me. As usual.

"Like where?" I asked, still confused. Darry stopped at the light and shrugged.

"I don't know," he sighed. "Don't have any family to ship ya off to, ya ain't in any summer camps where they make you eat even crappier cooking than Soda's…and there ain't no way in hell I'm sending you out to California to hang around with Two-Bit. You'd just end up in the hospital, I can _feel_ it. So…I don't know. I just think it would be good for you to get away from here for a while. That's all."

I wholeheartedly agreed. I stuck my arm out the open window, letting it ride the wave of the breeze as Darry drove.

XXXXX

There are a few people in town that _everybody_ knows. You just can't avoid them. Sometimes that doesn't last for a very long time – that whole thing where everybody gets their fifteen minutes of fame – but Tulsa was just tight enough that there were quite a few notables that everybody at least had heard whispers about. The Shepards definitely fell under this category; everybody knew about Tim's gang, and his hoodlum little brother. And a lot of people – but maybe not quite as many – knew about their younger sister, Angela.

Angela and I were the same age and we would have been in the same grade if I hadn't been skipped ahead, so she would be starting high school in the fall. I hadn't really seen much of her in a while since we weren't in the same class anymore, but I sure used to. We had been in the same class in fourth grade _and_ fifth grade, and there was something about her that definitely stood out. She was a lot smarter than Curly, but not as smart as Tim, but she was pretty cunning and catty and, well, really pretty. She'd even been pretty back in grade school. But she'd been mean then, too. Her insides definitely didn't match her outside. When Johnny was…around, I used to like to check out this big book of Greek myths – _D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths,_ specifically – and report back to Johnny about my findings. One of the creatures in there was something called a siren, a beautiful creature that lured sailors to death with their song. That was Angela.

(And even for as pretty as she was, what with the big blue eyes and the tan and the black curls, she was no Aphrodite; she was the goddess of beauty _and_ love, and I had no idea what Angela loved.)

Unfortunately for me, she found me – and I hadn't been looking for her.

I'd tagged along with Steve and Sodapop for dinner at The Dingo one night after their shift ended, craving a cheeseburger and a vanilla milkshake to dip salty French fries into. The two of them left me alone with my food at one point to chat up a couple of girls – I'm pretty sure Steve was acting as Soda's wingman – and I was just minding my own business when I hear,

"Hey, Ponyboy."

I looked up. There she was. She sounded a lot more mature than she looked, and she looked pretty mature. I was pretty sure a fourteen-year-old girl had no business sounding as suggestive as _that_. She kinda scared me a little, but she was still pretty and made my jeans feel a bit too tight, if you know what I mean.

"Hi, Angela," I said weakly. Angela grinned and flicked her wrist casually.

"Angel's fine," she said.

"Uh. Okay. Hey…Angel." She giggled, and I started to get a feel for where this was going, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothin'," she said, playing casual. "Just thought I'd say 'hey.' It's been a while since I've seen you. You bein' a high school big-shot and all."

This was confusing – she was being way too nice. I raised my eyebrows. "Big-shot?" I repeated, and she laughed again, even though I wasn't being funny at all.

"Well, yeah! Of _course_ you are. Congratulations on your third at state, by the way."

Okay, yeah – _way_ too nice. She was buttering me up. "Thanks," I said. "You heard about that?"

"Everybody in _town_ did," she said, finally looking at me like I was stupid, which was a look I knew what to do with, but then she recovered. "Very impressive. How's your summer been?"

"Fine," I shrugged. "Kinda boring."

"Oh?" She said. "Well, if you ever want a little excitement, you know where to find me," she winked. "See ya around, Ponyboy!" And then she flounced off, just in time for Sodapop and Steve to rejoin me. They slowly lowered themselves back into our booth and then shot me crazy looks.

"What the hell was that?" Steve asked, looking a bit scared himself. I shook my head.

"Man, I don't know."

But Sodapop just smiled. "Looks like that li'l' vixen has her eye on ya."

Then he and Steve started laughing, and I just groaned and sank into the booth; the _last_ thing I needed was Angela Shepard _like-_ liking me.

XXXXX

Bridget had told me the night she left that since she didn't know when she and Two-Bit would be back, I was still welcome to use her library, and she gave me a spare key that I could use to get in. She also said not to worry about her father – she'd already "taken care of it", whatever that meant, and that he probably wouldn't be there anyways. The first time I went in felt a bit strange without her there, but I really didn't have anything else to do with myself with Two-Bit out of town and everybody else at work. After the first couple times, it stopped feeling so strange, even though I was alone. And I guess I started feeling a bit bold, too, because after finishing _Howl and Other Poems_ (which was, as you probably guessed, a collection of poems), I was kinda worn out with reading for the time being, and somehow my brain decided to start screwing with the record player in the room. It was a really nice one, a whole setup. I looked through their records and didn't really find anything I recognized or liked, so I just turned the thing on and put the needle on the record already on the turntable.

The first thing I heard was what sounded like every instrument in the orchestra playing very loudly all at once.

"You enjoy Barber?"

I whipped around, my breath catching in my throat. Before me stood a man about six feet tall, wearing slacks and a white polo shirt and wingtips. (At least, I think they were wingtips.) He had a goatee and wore glasses. His hair was dark, practically black, but streaked with grey. He smelled more like cigar smoke than nicotine. His demeanor was calm, and his tone had been genuinely curious, but he looked a bit tired. So this was Dr. Stevens.

"Who, sir?" I asked

He came further into the room and gestured to the album cover sitting on the side table. It was four bright red flowers against a background of mulberry and a cloudy blue sky. The stems of the flowers spelled out the names Samuel Barber, Thomas Schippers, and the New York Philharmonic. I should have guessed that was going to play when I put the needle on – it had been sitting right next to the record player.

"Samuel Barber," he clarified. "American composer. This is Schippers conducting, of course. Does most of his work in the opera, however." He briefly cut his eyes to mine. "I take it now that you're unfamiliar."

I swallowed and shook my head. "I'm afraid I am, sir."

Dr. Stevens' lips quirked. "Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we?"

I was a bit stunned. So he had finally met the greaser that was reading all the books in his library, and this was his reaction? He removed the needle from the record, probably so we could hear each other better. "I s'pose so," I said quietly.

Dr. Stevens walked over to the fancy-looking couch under the window. I'd tried sitting on it once, but it felt almost _too_ fancy, so I had alternated between the armchair and the floor. "There's no need to feel nervous – my daughter has told me about you."

"She has?"

He nodded. "She has. She said you might be here sometimes. She also said you were a good, respectful young man and that I could expect for you to treat my library with care. It's too bad about the public library – they'll recover, though. Don't worry."

I let myself breathe a little easier. Maybe I should've been clued in from the get-go that he was okay with me being here when he didn't kick me out on sight. "It's just too bad. They lost a lot."

"So I heard," he nodded thoughtfully. "Like I said, though– they'll recover."

He was very sure. It was nice to be around someone who was so _sure_. He sounded like he knew what he was saying. Probably because he was…well, he was a real adult. I thought Darry was the apex, but I forget all the time that he's still only twenty-one years old. That all of my friends are much younger than I sometimes remember.

I knew very little about Dr. Stevens. I knew of course, that he was the father of Two-Bit's girlfriend (Bridget, Bridget, _Bridget_ – I almost had to remind myself that she had a name, that she wasn't some elusive being. That she was young, too.) I knew he was a history professor at the university. That was about it. It really wasn't my business before, but maybe it would be a bit now that he and I had met. I don't know.

"Did she tell you my name?"

Dr. Stevens, who had seemed to be lost briefly somewhere else for a moment, looked back up at me. "Hm? Oh, yes. Of course. Ponyboy." The name did sound a bit strange, like he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it, and I wondered if he was judging my father, parent-to-parent. "Ponyboy Curtis. Quite the name."

"Yeah," I agreed. "My dad was pretty original. My brother is named Sodapop."

He smirked. "I've heard about Sodapop." Then he chuckled. "You and your band of brothers sound like quite the bunch. Bridget has told me a few things. I'm sorry to have heard about what happened to your friends this past fall – and to you, for that matter."

That gave me a funny feeling in my chest. People always remembered to say sorry about what happened to Johnny and Dallas, but it's funny – not many people tacked on the part about me. I didn't want them to, it always felt so insincere. But he seemed to mean it. "Thank you, sir."

"You don't always have to call me sir. But you're welcome."

"What should I call you then?"

"Hm?"

"What should I call you if I don't call you 'sir'?"

He seemed to think about it. "Well. I don't know. Dr. Stevens works fine. I guess 'sir' is alright, too."

"Oh." Nevermind, then.

Then we fell into a slightly awkward silence. He stared out the window and I stared ahead at a spot on the wall. This could have gone a lot worse, so I was grateful for the fact that it hadn't, that this was probably the worst it would get, and this wasn't _that_ bad. I'd had worse.

"My daughter," he finally began again, "is in San Francisco with your friend right now."

His daughter, Bridget. My friend, Two-Bit. Right. Had that much clear. I wondered if he knew I was the one who had told them to go. That I was the one that had encouraged them to go in the first place. That whatever he was thinking and feeling about the situation was, really, my fault. I need to stop making bad decisions for other people. It makes me feel like a life-ruiner.

"I know," I whispered.

"Can I trust him?"

My breath caught and I swallowed. "Two-Bit, sir?"

"Yes. Keith."

He didn't have a problem with my name or my brother's, but I guess he had a problem with Keith Mathews' nickname, the one that most everybody but his mother and sister called him. Or maybe he just had a problem with it right now. Maybe calling him a grown-up-sounding name made it easier for him to swallow the fact that he was only nineteen and had his daughter with him. Maybe. "You can trust him," I said, quiet but sure. "I'd trust him with my life. He's one of my best friends, my brothers', too." I didn't tell him that he was a good man in a fight or was the least-caught but best-known shoplifter in town or that he could bite through a beer can and down it in one go and that I'd seen him do all those things with my own two eyes. I didn't think he'd appreciate that. "He really cares about your daughter." And I knew that to be true.

"Right," Dr. Stevens mused. "Right, well, there's not much I can do about it right now. She calls, and I guess that's enough for now."

"Nobody stays out there forever, I hear," I said, trying to help clam his nerves. "I guess they just get bored and go back home. Like a vacation."

"That girl has vacationed from Sun Valley to Sussex. I personally can't see what San Francisco has to offer, but I suppose you're right." Dr. Stevens didn't sound too happy to admit that. He stood up and walked over to a credenza and opened up a little cupboard that had a lot of liquor bottles in it, then poured himself a drink. "What were you reading?" He asked me, and I guess he was looking for a change of subject.

" _Howl_ ," I said. "That book of poems."

He gave a short nod. "Good. You familiar with Shakespeare yet?"

Of course he would ask that. I bet you all professors like Shakespeare. "Well, I read _Hamlet_ , but only because I wanted to read _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead_ , which the public librarian recommended to me. My friend said that you're s'posed to read _Hamlet_ in eleventh grade, though, so I guess I sorta skipped ahead when I shouldn't've."

I guess I said a lot in one breath because Dr. Stevens just sorta stared at me for a minute like I was a total goof, but then he recovered with a nod. "Never apologize for being young and well-read. Now – you should start from the beginning, which means, unfortunately, _Titus Andronicus…_ "

XXXXX

"Hey, Ponyboy!"

I looked up from the jukebox. I'd stopped in at Arnie's, that diner we'd all gone to a while back, to get a Pepsi and some fries or something. I was also trying to avoid the Dingo, mostly because I knew Angela would be there, and if we're being honest, she sorta scared me. And what with the way Curly was behaving and the fact that Angela sort of fit the killer's MO, just being around her made me nervous. However, Evan Peters did not, so I was sort of glad to see him. I hadn't seen him since the last day of school when he invited me out to his grandparents' in Sand Springs. I grinned and waved at him. He waved me over to his table where he was sitting with a couple of his buddies. I thought I might recognize them, but they sorta just looked like everybody else at Will Rogers, kinda indistinct. I hit a song at random so I didn't waste my dime and made my way over to their table.

"Hey, Evan," I said, nodding. I nodded at his buddies, too, and they nodded back. Evan seemed to get that we didn't know each other and introduced us.

"Pony, this is my buddy Red" – a guy with, yes, red hair gave me a tight smile – "and John." The other guy sketched me a wave. "Guys, y'all know Ponyboy Curtis."

Of course they did, everybody did, but they were nice to me anyways and didn't bring anything up. The three of them were decent middle class guys, and it was kinda nice hanging around their type for a change, even if they did make me feel a little underdressed. Or, maybe not underdressed, but…sloppier. But they didn't seem to mind all that much, and Red and John never brought up anything. We just talked about sports and whether or not we liked what song had come up on the jukebox and all sorts of inconsequential stuff.

It felt good. It felt _normal_.

I needed a little normal.

I know I've been complaining about things being boring, but there's a difference between _boring_ and _normal_. Normal can still be exciting. Get my drift?

"Hey, so my parents said I could invite a few people out to our house out in Sand Springs for a few days – any of you guys interested?"

Evan looked hopeful. John and Red quickly agreed, and while they started talking about it, I had to think about it for a minute. Just the other day Darry said that maybe I should get out of town for a few days, but he didn't know how to swing it. And I liked Evan well enough, and John and Red seemed like nice guys, and they seemed OK with me, so I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't go as long as Darry was cool with it. And it wasn't like I'd miss anything here.

"I'd have to run it by Darry, but if he's cool with it, I'll go."

Evan just smiled and gave me a thumbs-up, and then the four of us started talking about the trip and making all sorts of plans already, and I thought to myself that it just felt really nice to have made a few friends of my own, and most importantly, I finally started to feel sort of _normal_.

XXXXX

 **AN: So my NaNoWriMo novel this year is actually an original work, a decision I made because I already had so much of _this_ story written and I felt like I'd be cheating if I used it, so I'll still be active this month, but maybe just a bit less. Be on the lookout for a couple one-shots, though!**

 **Also, there are references to _The Simpsons_ and _Hamlet_ in there, and I will virtually high-five anyone who can find them.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	13. The End of an Era

**Author's Note: We're back! Thank you for your patience with me. Had to get through NaNoWriMo, Thanksgiving, and finals. So, thank you for sticking around.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Are you ready for your trip?"

I nodded. It had actually been surprisingly easy to convince Darry to let me go to Evan's for a long weekend. Actually, it didn't really take much convincing at all. Darry had said he wished I could get out of town for a little while, away from everything that was going on, and this looked like a pretty good opportunity. And Evan wasn't some random hood, either, and neither were his friends. I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend.

"Where is it you're going?"

"Sand Springs. My friend's grandparents have a lake house."

Dr. Stevens nodded thoughtfully. "Our family shares a home in Hyde Park. I spent many summers there." I had no clue where Hyde Park was, or if that was a rich person thing, so I just nodded. "I'm assuming you'll be to busy to need any reading material," he said with a knowing smile. I smiled back.

"Probably not," I said.

"Did you finish the Thornton Wilder I loaned you?" I nodded. "Good. I figure you're probably saturated, then. There's more to life than books. Go become one with nature," he said good-naturedly. And I supposed he was right – there _was_ more to life than books.

Probably.

But today, I had come to him with a question. As I was packing my bag for my trip, I came across something from earlier in the summer. It was the copy of _Catch-22_ Two-Bit had swiped for me from that open house we went to. I had completely forgotten about it, which made me wonder if it had even been worth stealing in the first place. I started flipping through it, and something in the front caught my eye: a little note that I read over and over and over, trying to decipher it. Too bad I didn't know Morse Code, and neither did Darry. He looked at me kinda funny when I brought him that question.

I reached into my bag and grabbed the book, and then I showed it to Dr. Stevens, who looked at it curiously. "What did you think of this one?" He asked.

"I haven't read it yet."

"Well, if you're a fan of dark humor, this is for you."

I don't think I am.

"Could you tell me what this means?"

I handed Dr. Stevens my stolen copy of _Catch-22_ , flipped to the front cover so he could read the inscription. I thought back to the day that Two-Bit and I had taken it from that open house; maybe Two-Bit had been right, maybe nobody would miss it, but it had once been a gift to somebody, a gift that the giver, at the very least, had found meaning in. I watched on nervously as he read the message with an intense focus.

 _We made it out alive, buddy! There were times when I thought for sure that we wouldn't. I know it's been a while, but I read this and thought of the time we had over there. Wasn't no picnic! - ... . .-. . .- .-. . - ... .. -. -. ... - ... .- - .- . ... .- .- - ... .- - .. .- .. ... ... .. -.-. - ..- .-.. -.. ..-. - .-. -. . - ,-... ..- - -.- -. - .- .. -. . ...- . .-. -.-. - ..- .-.. -.. .- -. ..- -.- -. . - ... ... .. ... - - .-. ... - -... .-.. - .- -. - ..-. ..-. .. -. - ... .. ... -... - - -.- .- ..- ... - .-.. . .- ...- . ... ... .. ... .-.. . -. ... .. - '... ... .-.. .. -.- . - ... . -. ..- -.- .- ... - .- .-. - - . - ... .. ... ... .- .- - ... . ... .- - . - ... .. -. -. .- . ... .- .- - ... .- - -.. .- -.- -.. - -.- - ..- - ... .. -. -.- ... . -.- -. - .- ... - ... .- - ... - ..- ..-. ..-. .-.. .. -.- . - ... .- - .-. . .- .-.. .-.. -.- ... .- .-. .-. . -. . -..? Hope this brings back some of the good memories. .. ..-. - ... . .-. . .- . .-. . .- -. -.- .- - .- .-.. .-.. Over and out! – GD_

I had memorized it.

"I was a pilot," Dr. Stevens said casually. "In the war."

"You were?" I asked. He nodded.

"I was. Horrifying, really, but it was easy to become attached to the cause. I don't regret it." His words were defensive, but his tone wasn't. I raised my eyebrows. "It's a book about pilots during the war. And the futility of war," he added. "How stupid and disgusting it is."

I completely agreed. War _was_ stupid and disgusting, and I was all too aware of how it could affect me. And how much I didn't want it to. "So what does it say?" I asked. "The Morse Code."

Dr. Stevens sighed, studying the inscription. "It's been years. You might need to give me some time with it. I know I have a book around here somewhere to help translate…"

"Could I leave it with you, then, and maybe get it when I come back?"

He nodded. "I should have it done by then. What else is summer vacation good for but decoding?" We both grinned. "Have a safe trip, Ponyboy."

XXXXX

Darry stood in my room, checklist in hand. I stood by my bag, ready to show him everything as he read down the list. Darry was freakishly organized and meticulous, and moments like this were no exception.

"You got sunblock?"

"Uh-huh."

"How many pairs of socks?"

"Um…three? I was gonna wear sandals."

Darry looked skeptical, but kept going. If I knew one thing about my brother, it was that he thought socks were pretty much the most important article of clothing there was. I could probably walk around buck naked and Darry would be okay with it as long as I was wearing socks. Gotta keep those feet insulated. But it was the middle of summer in Oklahoma – I didn't need any more damn insulation. If anything, I needed less, but I wasn't sure how to swing that. What was I supposed to do, shed my skin? Leave my physical body? I don't know.

"And you're coming back…"

"Monday," I informed him for the gazillionth time. "Probably around lunch."

I think he already knew all of this. Mrs. Peters called him to tell him everything, and she apparently also gushed over what a good brother Darry was and how good a job he was doing taking care of us – well, me. I don't think she knew about Sodapop. Darry was flattered, but only wanted details about the trip, which like I said, I know he got. He just kept asking over and over again to make sure he was right about them.

"Okay then," he muttered, looking back at his list. "Did I tell you Two-Bit called?" I shook my head. "Yeah, last night. They'll be coming back sometime next week."

"Really?" I asked. Darry nodded. "How'd he…how'd he sound?" I was asking because Matt had said that nobody went out there and came back the same, so I was expecting for that transformation to have already taken place. And Darry would probably be able to tell just talking to him on the phone, he must have. He'd gone to San Francisco – he _had_ to be different. That's what everybody said.

"He sounded like Two-Bit," Darry shrugged. "Same dumbass as always."

I wilted a bit in disappointment. Oh, well. He wouldn't be back until next week. Maybe he just needed a few more days for the transformation to fully take hold. "Darry, I think I've got everything. This is, like, the third time we've gone through the list."

"Yeah, okay," Darry sighed. "I should probably get started on dinner anyways." He folded up his list and moved to stick it in his pocket, then rethought and threw it in the waste basket. Guess he figured he wouldn't be needing it. "I really am glad you're gettin' out of here for a little while," he said. "I don't know…I don't know what the hell this town has come to. Summers ain't for findin' dead bodies." I heartily agreed. "Just…yeah. It'll be nice for you to get away from here for a little while."

I could tell that Darry wished he could get away for a bit, too. That he didn't want to hang around working himself until he was dog-tired just to pay our bills, and he didn't deserve to. I almost wished I could take him and Soda with me, and maybe even Steve, just so they could leave the baggage of this town behind for a little while, even if just for a weekend. I think it would do them all some good. But all I said was, "I think so, too."

XXXXX

Mr. and Mrs. Peters drove by the house on Friday morning in their station wagon, the rest of the guys already in the back seat, and I let Darry and Soda hug me before I ran off with my bag in hand, just eager to get away and hoping they weren't embarrassing me too much behind my back. I did wave back as we drove off, though.

"I never realized your brother was Darry Curtis," John said, looking back at my house admiringly. "Man, he was sure a stud back in his day."

Red rolled his eyes and hooked his thumb at John. "This one might as well be one'a those damn Pom-Pom girls, he's so ra-ra about the football team."

"Prolly cuz he can't get on it himself," Evan snickered. "There's no glory in bein' on the swimmin' team!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," John said. "Only perk is that there's less hazing than there is on the football team. You run, don't you, Ponyboy?" I nodded. "Cross country, or track? Or both?"

"Just track," I said.

"You like your first season?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it went pretty well. The guys are pretty okay, and running's a good way to get your mind off things." I bit my lip, wondering about my next move. "How was…swimming?" I asked, feeling silly for some reason.

John, however, had no problem talking and talking and _talking_ about swimming. This must be how Soda felt whenever Darry or I get going. John talked about something called "sets" and how they swam several miles every day, just back and forth across the pool for what seemed like forever, and about how he was something called a "breaststroker", and he was working on his butterfly – a fairly new stroke, apparently – so he could become something else called an "IM-er", which is where you swim all the swim strokes in a particular order that I can't remember. He also talked about how the coach is an ass but the guys are okay, but the seniors are sort of dicks, but they're seniors so what did he expect? I was learning that John was a bit of a chatterbox because he was able to fill the entire eleven-minute drive with just talk about swimming. And yes, I know it was only eleven minutes away, but jeeze – he sure made it feel longer. It took another ten minutes or so to get to the house once we actually got to Sand Springs, and he filled that up, too. It's okay – I'm not much of a talker in the first place, but I was the one who got him rolling, and by the look Red gave me, he was definitely blaming me.

"Well," Evan sighed dramatically as we pulled up to the house, "thanks for that, John-boy."

"Oh, sure," John said good-naturedly. He sort of reminded me of Two-Bit.

"Evan," Mrs. Peters called from the front porch, "why don't you have your friends grab their bags and then you can meet me in the basement?"

"Alright, Ma!"

"What's in the basement?" I asked.

"That's where they always stick us when we come out here," Red laughed. Evan popped open the trunk and started handed out bags. I was just using one of Darry's old ones. I bet the rest of the guys had their own. "His folks are of the philosophy that it's better to just leave us alone in all our glorious teenager-dom. C'mon." He shouldered up beside me and we followed after Evan and John as they led us down into the basement.

XXXXX

It was a blurry weekend of too much sun, staying in the water so long we let ourselves turn pruny, and good food. We were sunburnt and dizzy from the sun and soggy. We went out on their little pontoon boat every day, sometimes in the evening, and we could see the sun set on the water. Mrs. Peters was a good cook, and she stuffed us and made sure we waited forty-five minutes after eating before getting back in the water. Mr. Peters let us try beer. We swam and played chicken and we jumped off a rope swing into the water below, hollering loud on the way down.

It was a nice weekend for us boys of summer.

XXXXX

On Saturday night, our second-to-last night at the lake, me, Evan, John, and Red sat around on the little back porch just off the basement with a bunch of cans of soda and junk food. We were waterlogged and sunburnt and dizzy with hours spent out in the sun – but content. Mr. and Mrs. Peters had gone out for dinner, and they had left us alone pretty much all weekend, so I didn't suspect they'd bother us tonight, which was good because we were having a good time. It was nice to hang around with guys I didn't have any baggage with. And we were in a really nice spot; we were surrounded by pine trees, the piney scent hanging heavy around us and mixing with the fishy smell of the lake. The lake itself was beautiful tonight, too, and so was the sky above it with all its stars, and the moon was reflecting full and bright in the water. It was just the most perfect night.

"I never wanna go back to school," Evan sighed happily. "We should just disappear into the woods and stay here forever."

"Man, we're twenty minutes from town. They'd find us," Red laughed, but Evan just shook his head and refused to hear his logic. "You sound like one'a those hippies."

"My old man would blow a gasket if I became all hippy-dippy. I think he'd disown me."

"Y'all seen Randy Adderson lately?" John asked. "Talk about a transformation," he said, and they all snickered. I was just confused.

"What happened to Randy?" I asked. Evan raised an eyebrow.

"You haven't seen 'im? He's wearin' bell-bottoms and fringe now. Total hippie. I thought you knew him?"

I shrugged. "Kinda. I've really only talked to him a few times. He's a nice guy, though," I defended.

"Nobody's sayin' he's not a nice guy," Red placated. "Just…different."

"They're all different," John said as he poked through our collection of junk food for something he wanted to eat. "All those rich kids are gettin' with that flower-power scene."

"Well – not _all_ of 'em," Evan corrected. "Just some of them."

I thought of Bridget, and now Randy. They were a couple of pretty popular people around school – would we come back from summer and suddenly all of the old socs would be wearing tie-dye just because they were? Who knows. I could never see someone like Steve wearing tie-dye, even if Two-Bit did send him a shirt.

" – knows all those senior girls."

I checked back in. "Who does?" They all snickered.

" _You_ do," Red said. "Cherry Valance, Marcia Powell, Bee Stevens. They deign to speak to you – how'd ya swing that?"

I shifted around, playing with the tab on my Coke can. I really wasn't sure how I swung anything. Things just happened to me. "Ya gotta get us an in, Pony," John laughed. "What's yer secret?"

"That's why he wants to get on the football team," Evan theatrically whispered. "To be around them, get a chance to get under their skirts," he laughed, his eyebrows jumping up and down. I huffed a laugh, even though I didn't think of any of them in that way.

"Uh…I dunno…" I shrugged. "I know Cherry and Marcia from everything last fall, and I sat next to Bridget in art class. They're nice. They're prolly just bein' nice to me."

"Maybe," Evan shrugged, "but that's more than can be said for the rest of us. We're just sophomores – plebs. But all of them adore you."

"They do?" I asked, not believing it.

"Sure," Red said. "If they don't hate you, they love you. I mean, you're a good guy, and you're more than that, but hey – I bet you could get with any one of those girls."

I grimaced. "Sure," I sighed. "Whatever you say, Red. Besides, most of them are dating, anyways."

"Oh, yeah," John drawled with a sly grin. Marcia was still with Randy, and - "Ain't Stevens going with Two-Bit Mathews?"

"How'd you know that?" I asked.

"Everybody knows that. Word gets around, and Janine Johnston mentioned it in her column."

Oh, _great_. Mrs. Janine Johnston and her gossip column were talking about my buddies. Spectacular.

"A bit disappointing," Red sighed. "We used to walk by each other between fifth and sixth period, and to this day the smell of White Shoulders gives me a boner. But, alas – 'twas not meant to be."

"Ya know, ever since everything that happened to Cherry and all the stuff around Vickie Harper, I betcha Stevens is gonna be the new Queen Bee come fall." Even I had to smirk at his pun. "And like we said, Curtis – you could probably get with Valance if ya wanted."

Cherry was really pretty, I couldn't deny that. But she hardly ever said more than 'hi' to me when we saw each other, and I understood why. We had a lot of history, and I did like her. But I don't think she'd ever see me as more than the kid who was friends with the guy who killed her boyfriend. She'd probably carry torches for him and Dallas Winston for years. "We should talk about somethin' else," I smirked, and John and Red groaned, but Evan got this strange look on his face and reached behind him.

"So, when I saw my brother a couple weeks ago, he gave me _this_." He set a cigar box in the middle of our circle. I did not want to smoke cigars. But Red and John seemed to know what this was because they looked all excited. Evan flipped the box open. "It's not a lot, but I figured we could share one."

"Oh, hell yeah!" John grinned.

"How long you been plannin' this, Peters?" Red asked, admiring the contents of the box.

"Eh, not that long. I just figured – everyone's doin' it. Might as well see what all the fuss is about."

The cigar box had a little stack of filmy white papers, and then a little bag next to the stack that was filled with this fuzzy-looking green stuff. Realization dawned on me slowly, but when it hit, it really hit. "Pot?" I asked, fairly sure I had the lingo right. Evan shot me a grin as he pulled out the bag and a piece of paper.

"Yep," he said. "Alright, let's figure this out."

We spent the next couple minutes trying to figure out how much of the weed we should put on the paper, and the whole time I was wondering whether or not I should do this. I mean, I smoked all the time, and I'd gotten drunk that one time right after my parents died, but Darry had told me to stay the hell away from drugs. But we were just sitting around doing nothing, and this time felt different than the time I was with Curly and they tried to make me eat that white sugar cube-looking thing. Maybe just a few hits? (Was that the right term?) It couldn't hurt, could it? And it wasn't like we'd put in that much, anyways, and we were sharing just the one…maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"Anyone know how to roll this thing?" Red asked. They'd all tried and failed, so I leaned in and expertly rolled it up, then took the little tube and put it in my mouth to lick it shut as they all watched on, impressed.

"My dad used to roll his own cigarettes," was what I said in explanation, shrugging a little. "Figured it was the same idea."

"Alright, then," John grinned. "Got a lighter, too?"

I smirked. "Always."

And I took mine out of my back pocket and lit it up, but I didn't inhale just yet. I let Evan have at it first, and then we passed it clockwise around the circle. The three of them didn't seem to smoke very much, coughing a little bit, but the actually smoking wasn't the problem for me. But it did taste different from a cigarette in a way I wasn't too sure I liked. Then I passed it back to Evan and they cycle repeated. I didn't feel any different, and they didn't look any different after the first time through. I think the idea was to just keep passing it around and around until we actually started to feel something. I think pot is supposed to calm you down or something, and I was already calm. The only thing I noticed after a few more passes was that I was hungry, and I wanted more than chips. I wanted…I wanted, like, a cheeseburger with a side of large fries and a milkshake. From Jay's. _Yeah_.

"Y'all feelin' it?" Evan asked, looking like he was either vaguely disappointed or confused, like he thought smoking weed would give him the ability to fly.

"Floaty?" Red tried.

John coughed. "Man, what the fuck. I don't ever smoke. Is this how it's s'posed to feel?"

"I dunno…Pony, how 'bout you? You feel anything?"

I nodded solemnly. "Hungry." They all nodded, too.

"Are my eyes red?" Red asked, and then he laughed a little. "Hehe. _Red_. Like my name. Get it?"

"Hey, that is funny," John said. "Fun-ny. It's funny how if you say a word a bunch of times, it starts to lose, like, all its meaning. Every word is just sorta…" He waved a hand. "Made up. Ya know?"

"Yeah," Evan breathed. "Everything's made up. Make-believe."

"Funny, fuh-ny, _funny_ , fuh- _ny_."

"I'm still hungry," I said.

"Me too," Evan pointed at me.

"Are my eyes red?" Red repeated. "That's how you know if you're high. If your eyes are red."

John chuckled. "I don't think that's the _only_ way, my friend."

"We should eat something," I said, really trying to get my point across.

"We should," Evan agreed. "Let's go raid the kitchen."

We all scrambled inside and up the stairs, tripping over the steps and each other, and Red kept laughing and John kept telling him to shut up, and Evan was busy in the refrigerator grabbing stuff to make sandwiches and this big bowl of potato salad his mom had made and more coke and some other shit. _Shit_. Ha. Ha-ha. Shit. I plopped down happily at the kitchen table. "My brother makes good chocolate cake. Y'all should come over and have chocolate cake sometime."

" _Let them eat cake_ ," Red said haughtily.

"Yer brother makes cakes?" John asked. "Like, is he fruity?"

"Naw, we just like sugar."

"Aw, hell yeah, man. I'll come over."

"Yes, groovy, do that."

"Does anyone want ice cream?"

" _Hell yeah!"_ Red roared. "Fuckin'…give me the carton and a spoon."

"Here." Evan got out four spoons. "Now we can just eat out of it."

"Hell yeah." _Hell yeah_ was the phrase of the night.

I had never been this hungry before in my life, except maybe when Johnny and I were in Windrixville and all we had to eat was peanut butter and baloney sandwiches. Not together, of course, because that would be gross. That would be awful. That would be gross. That would be awful and gross. Honestly, this whole combination of food was pretty strange – sandwiches and potato salad and ice cream and coke and at one point someone started frying up some eggs and making toast, and I said, hey – why don't we add some grape jelly to those eggs? And Red said why not add the jelly to the toast? And I said, that's not how we do it on the east side. And got myself a laugh.

"What are you boys up to?"

We froze and one by one turned to see Mr. Peters standing in the kitchen entryway. Evan recovered quickly. "Hey, Dad. We just…haven't eaten since lunch. We were hungry."

"You boys skipped dinner?"

"We're havin' it now," John said, and Red hit him in the arm, and John rubbed the sore spot.

"Yeah," Evan hissed. "Just…time got away from us. And all that time in the sun, you know – makes ya extra hungry." He shrugged happily. "So we're eatin' now."

Mr. Peters just laughed and shook his head. "Boys will be boys." Aw, what a hokey thing to say. "Well, just make sure to clean up after yourselves. I won't tell Mrs. Peters," he winked, and then he disappeared back into the house. Funny – I hadn't even known they were home. We all got quiet again as we listened to Mr. Peters' footsteps, waiting for the telltale shut of the bedroom door. Then we all sighed in relief.

"You think he was on to us?" Red asked.

"Naw," Evan shook his head. "He's pretty clueless." I looked up.

"Where're my eggs?"

XXXXX

"We can't tell nobody, got it?"

Red, John, and I nodded in grave understanding. After we'd finished eating and cleaning up the kitchen, we'd slunk back downstairs, Evan put away his share of his brother's stash, and we all crashed. Now it was the next day, and we were all floating in the lake. We had come to the agreement that we had indeed felt _something_ , and that something was mostly hungry, and kinda goofy. But we hadn't been totally baked. I felt vaguely ashamed, but mostly it felt cool that the four of us now had this secret. We were good guys – nobody could know about us getting high. Darry would have my ass for sure if he found out.

"Alright, then," Evan sighed. "I mean, did you guys…like it?"

"I guess," John shrugged, and Red nodded. I just nodded, too.

"It's just kinda somethin' to do," I said.

"That's a good way of puttin' it," Evan sighed. "Alright. Who wants to play chicken?"

XXXXX

"Ponyboy!"

Sodapop got me wrapped up in a big hug before I could even make my way up the driveway. I craned my neck so I could wave to Evan, who was kinda laughing as he drove off, and I had to laugh a bit, too, because Soda _is_ a bit ridiculous and over-the-top. But you get used to him being that way. I felt kinda sad to see Evan and Mr. Peters go, probably because it meant my weekend was over, and Darry had been right – I had needed to get away. And, not gonna lie, it felt nice to have some friends of my own, friends that I shared secrets with that my brothers and Two-Bit and Steve weren't privy to, and I didn't plan to make them so. I clapped Soda on the back, and he finally let go of me.

"Hungry?" He asked, and I nodded vigorously.

I'd only been away a few days, but it did feel nice to be home, and it felt like I'd been gone for longer than I had been. The windows were all thrown open, and the house smelled and even looked cleaner than usual. It was a nice feeling to come home to. "What's with the cleaning?"

Soda huffed a laugh as he slapped together a couple of turkey sandwiches. "Well, it ain't all for yer homecoming, that's for damn sure." He grimaced. "It's almost that time of the month."

Oh. Right. Our social worker would probably be stopping in soon. Darry always got really stressed out, as did the rest of us, but mostly Darry. There wasn't much I could do besides look presentable and behave myself, but Darry was in charge here. But if you ask me, it was Sodapop who had it the roughest. Since he was still a minor and a dropout, he had to make sure he kept his nose mostly clean; he also had to make sure to keep his job so we could keep up with the bills. He had to be a kid and an adult, where Darry and I were on our own sides. But Sodapop would turn eighteen soon, and then all Darry would have to worry about was, well…me.

"Don't sweat it," Soda said. I must have been looking nervous. He put our sandwiches on the table and grabbed a bag of kettle chips, and we both sat down to eat. "Darry'll be home soon – he had to stop at the bank. He'll wanna know all 'bout yer trip."

"'kay."

"And so do _I_ ," he grinned. "What sorta trouble didja get up to, Pony Curtis?"

I rolled my eyes, but the truth is, I didn't want to tell Soda about getting high. I mean, I was pretty sure he'd done it before and wouldn't judge me or nothing, but I still felt funny telling him. Besides – I'd been sworn to secrecy. The four of us had promised to keep that experience between ourselves, even if everybody seemed to be getting high these days. "We didn't do nothin'," I said. "We just spent time in the water and hung out and ate too much food. They had a boat."

Soda's eyes widened. "They had a boat? A nice boat?"

"Sure, I guess. It was a little pontoon boat."

Soda looked impressed. "Damn. I ain't ever been on a boat. How's that fair?" I laughed around a bite of sandwich. "You want somethin' to drink?"

"Pepsi," I mumbled through a mouthful of food, and Soda snapped his fingers and got up and got me one. "Anything interesting happen here?"

His expression darkened a bit. "Funny you should mention that." My stomach sank. I thought of a million different possibilities in a split second of all the horrible things that could have happened in the short time I was gone, another dead girl being found at the forefront of my mind. What was wrong with this city? I wanted to go back to Sand Springs and forget about civilization again. "While you were gone, some jackass blew up the Dingo."

My eyes widened. "They _what?_ " But the Dingo was an establishment! It had always been there! Where else were we supposed to go now that it was gone – the west side? And have all those snobby people look down on us? Logically, I knew there were other places to go to eat and hang out, and that the Dingo had been such a rough spot that something like this was probably inevitable, but still – what the heck? The Dingo had been an institution, and now it was no more.

"Somebody blew it up," he reiterated. "Some sorta homemade bomb exploded and the joint burned down. The Dingo is no more, my friend."

Yeesh. The times they really are a-changin'. I slumped back in my chair and took a sad gulp of Pepsi. Why couldn't anything ever just stay the same for just a little while? Why were things always changing? "So what're we s'posed to do now?"

Soda just shrugged. "Dunno. There's plenty of other joints for us to taint with our delinquency. But, ya know, the cops think it might be connected to everything that's been goin' on this summer."

"They do?"

"Mmhmm. I mean, that's what Officer Wells thinks." What was it with everyone suddenly being friends with Officer Wells? First Two-Bit, now Soda. "He told me an' Steve that they ain't ruling anything out, that maybe this is some sorta warning."

"Did anybody get hurt?"

"I think so, but nobody died, if that's what you're askin'. Anyways, that's the skinny. But ya needed to know now that you're back – gotta be even more careful now, and who knows, maybe the case worker'll have questions about it."

I sure hoped not. Man, just when this summer starts looking up, something like this happens. And unfortunately, things were about to take a turn for the even weirder.

XXXXX

 **AN: *Spongebob voice* _Are you feelin' it now, Mr. Krabs?_**

 **Unless you know Morse Code, you're going to have to wait along with Ponyboy to find out what that says.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	14. Homeward Bound

**Author's Note: Alright – the holidays are over, and we're back on that grind, which means more updates! Thanks for your patience!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping, their song lilting through the cracked window as the early morning sun rose, cracking open my sensitive eyes and letting them adjust to the growing golden light of the dawn. I don't know what had made me stir, but I was still feeling sleepy and allowed myself to watch out the window as the day approached. I felt like I was in one of those Disney cartoons. That would be a fun job, being the person who got to draw and paint all those landscapes in those movies. But animation sounds like tedious work.

When the sun had finally rose, I rolled over and looked at the bedside clock. It was only seven-thirty. I hadn't gotten up any earlier than nine almost all summer, and I knew I'd been up awhile because I think I watched pretty much the entire sunrise. So, I took stock of the situation, noting that there was a strange sort of feeling in the air, a buzz. Then I sort of tuned in to my surrounding, listening closely, and that's when my ears started to pick up on noise coming out of the front of the house, maybe the kitchen or living room. People were up and talking. _Hmm_. Suspicious.

I rolled out of bed, shivering when my feet hit the ground. My room was cold this morning – probably from the open window. It had been hot last night. No regrets. I pulled on a shirt and shuffled out in just that and my underwear, making a stop to brush my teeth before I headed out into the main part of the house. The TV was on low on the morning news, and I scowled at the anchorman and scrubbed at my eyes, not feeling at all awake yet, but needing to investigate. There were voices in the kitchen. I headed in that direction.

And found Darry and Soda talking to Two-Bit.

"Hey…"

My raspy morning voice caught all their attention, and Two-Bit grinned when he saw me. Darry and Soda seemed to just take note that I was awake now. "Howdy, kid!"

"Howdy," I repeated, squinting at him. "You're back."

"That I am," he grinned.

"Siddown, Pony," Soda said, pulling out a chair for me. "'fore ya fall back to sleep on yer feet."

That kinda rhymed. Hehe. I sat down next to him, and they all watched me like I was the one who'd just gotten back from San Francisco, the adventure of a lifetime, and not Two-Bit. "When did you get back?" I asked.

"This mornin'. Drove all damn night."

Now that I was slowly starting to wake up, I noticed that he did look kinda tired, with dark smudges under his eyes, but he looked happy. "How come?"

Two-Bit shrugged. "Just what we did."

I felt like he was holding back. "So…how was it?"

"That's what he was talkin' about when you came in," Darry said.

Two-Bit pointed at Darry. "Right. So's I'm the last guy the guy dropped off this mornin', and Ma worked the late shift and Sadie was still asleep, so I figgered I might as well come over here and bug y'all instead, and Steve once he gets here. And I knew we was gonna be comin' back sometimes this week, but last night we went to this sort of, uh…like some sort of underground bar or somethin' where all they served was coffee or whatever, and they had all these singers get up on this crappy little stage singin' folk songs, and they was pretty good, Bee was pretty into it and was 'boutta get roped into goin' up there 'fore I said I needed some air and got her to walk with me. San Francisco's an interestin' city, ya know? Hilly. But it's right there by the ocean, and we just sorta stared out at it for a little while, and I'm bein' quiet for once, as she pointed out, and then just…we both agreed that this feelin' just sorta hit us that we'd done what we'd come to do, and then after the rest of the guys were done inside we just hopped in the van and came back."

"Just like that?" Soda asked.

"Sure," Two-Bit shrugged. "I mean, we'd had a _time_. Met a bunch of people, seen a lot of things, went to some strange parties and listened to people spontaneously bust out in poetry recital. There's somethin' in the water out there for sure."

"So you said on the phone," Darry said wryly. "We got your, uh, package, by the way."

Two-Bit lit up. "Did'ja? Hell, there's more where that came from. And here I was thinkin' these hippie types weren't all attached to worldly possessions. Ton of free stuff."

"Did'ja stay on Haight-Ashbury the whole time?"

Two-Bit made a face. "Hell no. That was cool for, like, a day, it's so fuckin' crowded there. Cynthia – 'member her, Pony? The black chick? – she knew some guy who lived closer to the water, and he put us up. Reminds me…" He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a little circle and slid it across the table to me. "She said you liked hers, so she got ya one."

It was one of those patches with the panther on it, the one Cynthia had on her leather jacket. It was sure tuff. There was a white circle in the middle with a black panther, and black trim around the outside that said in white stitching: "Black Panther Party Panther Power." I grinned. It was nice that she thought of me. "What's the Black Panther Party?"

"Politics," Darry said, sounding tired at even the idea of explaining. Then he shook his head and let out a little sigh. I shook my head, too, to make him feel like he wasn't too alone in his thinking, even if I didn't really get much of an answer. But Cynthia hadn't seemed annoying or dangerous to me, so I just go the feeling that Darry didn't feel like elaborating at the moment – not this early in the morning. I could sorta sympathize.

"Was it worth it?" Soda asked. "Like, would ya do it again?"

Two-Bit leaned back and thought. While he was thinking, Steve showed up. He seemed to sense that there was a big conversation going on and just made his way to the fridge to pour himself a glass of milk. He didn't even bat an eye at Two-Bit being back in our kitchen, at our table; he just sat down next to Soda, totally unfazed. Two-Bit rolled his lips and sighed through his nose. "It was worth it. I just don't know if I'd do it again. I'd do…somethin' else. See some place different." His directed his presence back towards us and grinned. "Ain't that the point? Whole big world out there that we're s'posed to want to see? I saw the place, I did the things. Next!"

Steve shook his head. "But there was no way you saw all of it. What'd ya see anyways? What'd ya do? And no matter how much ya saw or did, there's gotta be more."

"But San Francisco's only so big," Two-Bit parried casually. "Whaddya want me to say, Stevie? It was somethin' else, for sure, but it's done," he shrugged. "And that's that!"

"But you're glad you went?" I pressed, starting to worry that I'd sent him off on this adventure only for him to not have actually liked any of it. Two-Bit placated me with a hand.

"Relax, kid. I am. Didn't ya read my letter? I'm real glad ya made me do it."

I smiled. I was glad to hear it. Later on, though, a little later in the morning, I heard him whisper to (probably) eager ears about skinning dipping in the Pacific Ocean with Bridget Stevens by his side, and I wondered if maybe…if maybe…no. I thought of his postcard. Of how he wrote he was glad I told him to go. It wasn't just about the skinny-dipping and getting high. It was an experience, and I was going to keep getting details about it out of him for months to come, no matter how much I had to bug him for them.

XXXXX

"Alright, people! We are T-minus here! I want this place lookin' spic-'n'-span _yesterday_!"

Darry gave Soda a droll look as he jokingly dusted off his hands. "You ain't done any work 'round here," he grumbled. "And actin' like a drill sergeant don't make up for it. Go put on a damn shirt. Please?"

Soda narrowed his eyes at our brother but then slunk back to his room to get dressed, grumbling about how Darry ruined his bit. I just shook my head; that was Soda for you, always a goofball. All energy. Darry turned his attention to me next, but I wasn't doing nothing – just sitting quietly on the sofa and waiting for the social worker to come. These visits always made me so nervous, and I knew they made Sodapop and Darry nervous, too, even if they didn't show it as much. I'd put on a clean blue shirt over my jeans, but hadn't given in on taking off my sandals – it was just too dang hot. Darry always spiffed up with the white dress shirt and shoes and jeans – he could really prep-out when he needed to. It was always a bit of a mystery what Sodapop would wear – I think it depended on his mood.

"You know that she might have questions for you about Mr. Long and the body."

I scowled. "They're lettin' Mr. Long out – said he's innocent, that they screwed up. Why would she ask about him?"

"Just cuz he's outta custody don't mean he's off scot-free. He ain't outta the woods yet. And –" He fiddled with his cuffs and started rolling up his sleeves – "I don't think I need to elaborate about the body. Do I? Because I will, I'll tell you."

"No," I grumbled. "Man, why does this sort of stuff always happen to me, huh?"

Darry huffed. "Can't say, kid. I've learned to stop askin' questions." He smiled grimly, and I just scowled deeper. Sodapop came back into the living room and sat down next to me, smelling like aftershave and Dial, and very distinctly Sodapop. He clapped me on the shoulder.

"I don't know what y'all're talkin' 'bout, but I agree with whatever Darry said."

Darry shook his head. "The hell'm I gonna do with you two?" He said to himself. Neither of us had an answer, but I don't think he was looking for one.

Our social worker was named Mrs. Grayson, and had introduced herself as Mrs. _Linda_ Grayson, and Darry told me later she was making a point of using her name and not her husband's. Mrs. Grayson was a nice lady and all, not mean or anything, but she also took a lot of pride in doing her job well – she had told us so the first time we met her, came right out and said it. I breathed in sharply when I heard her rap on our front door, always nervous about her visits no matter how nice a lady she was. Darry did as he always did, opening the door for her and smiling and asking her how she was doing, if she'd had a nice weekend, what her thoughts on the weather were, while Soda and I just sat next to each other on the couch, trying to look relaxed, but not too relaxed like we didn't care; not so uptight that it appeared as if Darry was domineering. It was a tightrope walk, a balancing act; we were walking a fine line here, and all three of us knew it. The guys knew it, too – they always stayed away from the house on days like today because god knows that wherever they go, trouble follows.

"House is looking nice," Mrs. Grayson said, smiling and pleased. "You boys are doing a very good job with the upkeep!"

Darry looked relieved. " _Thank_ you." And then he winked at us.

"What's this?"

I watched as Mrs. Grayson pulled something from the mantel and Darry blanched – we never could have smooth sailing. She flashed it at us; it was the Black Panther Party patch that Two-Bit had given to me from Cynthia. Why did I have to leave it there? Darry laughed nervously. "Well, I don't know whose that is – "

"Sodapop? Ponyboy?" She zeroed in on me. "Is this either of yours?"

I glanced nervously at Darry, who seemed to want for me to play along with his lie, but I didn't get why he was so nervous. "It's mine, ma'am," I said truthfully. "A friend gave it to me. Darry didn't know about it, he's not lyin'." I wasn't about to drag him down, though.

Mrs. Grayson hummed thoughtfully. "It's from a friend?" I nodded. Soda shifted uncomfortably next to me. She examined it again before putting it back on the mantel and finally sitting down, saying worriedly, "Those people can be trouble."

"Oh-oh," I stammered, "well, he just thought it was neat-lookin'. I don't know any…Black Panthers," I said, sort of lying, feeling a bit silly saying it for some reason. Maybe because of the way she was talking. Mrs. Grayson looked slightly alarmed.

"I don't mean to say that all negroes are bad people," she explained. "Just that particular group's methods are far too violent." I didn't know about that, I really didn't, so I just nodded while Darry and Sodapop sat stone still, watching Mrs. Grayson click open her pen and get ready to start taking notes. "So, how have things been?"

Darry snapped out of it. "Good," he said simply. "Good, I-I'm a little behind on a couple of bills because of the whole jury duty snag, but I think we'll work it out."

"That's good," she said, jotting something down. "And Sodapop, still working?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. And Ponyboy, how have the past few weeks been for you?"

I swallowed as they all stared at me. I think I knew what she was getting at, what she wanted me to say, but I decided to go in a different direction. "I went away with a few buddies to Sand Springs for a weekend. We did a lot of swimming, had a real good time."

Mrs. Grayson looked pleased, like she was happy for me, but she still asked, "Have you been alright since…?"

I had to fight against the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm fine," I shrugged. "I just hope it all gets figured out soon. Don't need anyone else gettin' hurt."

"I agree," she sighed, shaking her head at the whole situation. "It's all so tragic. And with a suspect livin' right across the street…"

"They said Long ain't guilty," Soda said. "I figger if they say he ain't the one who did it there ain't no reason to be scared. Mr. Long may be kinda goofy, but he's…he's harmless!" Soda smiled to assure her, the way he always did. He had a way of calming people down with just a friendly look and a few reassuring words. Not many people can do that, let alone keep their cool well enough to do so.

"This neighborhood can just be so dangerous," she went on, almost like she hadn't listened. Mrs. Grayson was so hung up with doing the right thing and doing her job right that it was almost as if she was doing her job _wrong_. "Darrel, you're doing a fine job – you all are – but sometimes I wonder about this environment."

Darry surprised us by saying, "I do, too. But it's not as if I can change that."

"We got friends in this neighborhood," Soda said. "And we're all lookin' out for each other. Gosh, Mrs. Mathews down the street must come down here once a month carrying on about something or other," he laughed.

"You've told me about her. She's one of your friend's mothers."

"That's right, ma'am."

Mrs. Grayson didn't look completely happy, but she just smiled and clicked her pen shut and closed her folder. "Well, alright then. You boys are doing a fine job, nothing to worry about. I'll see you again next month."

Darry got up and showed her to the door because he's a polite guy, and it can never hurt to be extra polite to your social worker. He waited until he could hear her car driving away to sigh with relief and turn back to us. "Pony, ya need to be a bit more careful about where you leave that," he said, nodding his head at my patch. I was confused.

"What was she talkin' about, they're violent?" I asked. "And is it just for black people?"

"I don't know," Darry shook his head, "I don't really know much about 'em. They're a new…political party, or whatever. I can't keep up with everything that's goin' on _and_ all y'all _and_ work…there's enough goin' on right here."

"You think we need to be worried about Long?" Soda asked, his expression worried and a bit dark. Darry shook his head.

"I don't think so. Look – I was on that case. It don't add up to me that he'd do it, knowing him and knowing what I know." He was unbuttoning his dress shirt and then he balled it up, leaving him in just a white tee. "He may be a drunk, but he's…like ya said, he's harmless. He's just been dragged into somethin' he shouldn't be."

"It just makes no sense in the first place," Soda mused, back in his investigative spirit. "I mean, why not arrest his wife? She lives there, too. It's all a bunch of crack police work. Can't trust the police!" He declared. Darry rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say. Y'all're free now. Relax, Pony," he said to me. "Everything's okay. Okay?"

"I am relaxed," I insisted, but now that he mentioned it, I realized I had been holding my breath, but I don't know why. I took a deep breath and got up to change into my cutoffs and grabbed Dr. Stevens' copy of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ that he leant me and got to work on it.

XXXXX

The morning Howard Long came back, Steve and Two-Bit showed up early so they could spy from our front window, waiting for something to happen. They were there when I got out of bed, sitting on the couch and staring back out the window. They didn't seem to notice me, so I just went into the kitchen and made myself a bowl of cereal with just a little too much milk in it, and then sat down on the floor and put my bowl up on the coffee table. Steve turned his head.

"Hey, kid," he said. Two-Bit turned his head, too, at Steve's voice.

"Yeah, howdy, Pony," he grinned.

"Morning," I said. "Darry and Soda already gone?"

"Yeah," Two-Bit said, his voice almost a whisper, like Mr. Long wouldn't show up if he talked any louder. "But Soda said he's comin' back for lunch for an update."

"On what?"

"On Long, of course," Steve said, going back to staring.

"Ya know a watched pot never boils," I said smartly. "Staring won't make him come. And what's the big deal, anyways? He's not guilty, they said so. Whaddya think's gonna happen?"

" _That's_ the fun." Two-Bit waggled his eyebrows. "We don't know! Could be nothin', could be somethin'. Just cuz he's innocent don't mean there won't be anything of note."

"You're worse than a girl, ya know that?" Steve snarked. "You're the Gossip Queen of Tulsa."

Two-Bit gave him a look and flipped him off, and Steve chuckled. Then they just kept staring out the window. They were clearly more interested in that than they were in talking to me, so I just sleepily made my way through my bowl of cereal and then put my bowl in the sink, got dressed, and then grabbed my book so I could keep reading while they just sat and stared. I mean, I was sitting there with them because I was just as interested as they were, but I wasn't just gonna do nothing. Heck, Two-Bit fell back asleep for a while there, and then so did Steve, probably because they were bored. But then midday rolled around and Soda showed up, and the slam of the door woke them back up.

"Anything happened yet?" He asked, crowding on the couch with them with a sandwich so he could stare out the window and eat at the same time – multitasking. Steve shook his head.

"Not yet. He's gotta show up at some point, don't he?"

"With our luck, it'll be the second we turn our backs," Two-Bit said.

"You already have," I said. "When you fell asleep." I gave in and crowded on the couch, too. "But you didn't miss nothin' – I woulda woke you up."

The three of them sighed frustratedly. Now we were just waiting in silence.

"So somebody blew up The Dingo," Two-Bit said.

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "Somebody did."

"They know who?"

"Nah. Steve and I talked to Officer Wells, and he said they ain't got a clue. But there's been a whole mess of things goin' on…they think they're all related."

"Do they now?" Two-Bit mused. "Man, a guy goes away for a few weeks, and now it's like he's on a different planet."

"Everything's changin'," Steve said glumly. "Not just here, neither. It's like the whole world's on drugs."

"And not even the good drugs. It's like we're all on crack cocaine," Two-Bit laughed. "Or the brown acid."

"The brown acid?" Soda repeated, pulling a face. "The hell?"

"Oh – forgot," Two-Bit said with a grin. "Y'all didn't tag along with me. I think y'all woulda enjoyed yourselves, though. Man, it was somethin' else," he said dreamily. Steve scowled. "Next time."

"Hey, wait a sec," I breathed. "Think that's him." The three of them perked up and I pointed out the window.

"Keep low," Steve hissed, and we all bent down."

Sure enough, a car was pulling up to the house, and three people – Mr. and Mrs. Long and some guy in a suit – got out and went into the house. And that was all that happened, but we kept watching to make sure. I felt like we were watching him through a fishbowl, like he was some sort of circus freak. Just another thing to fuel our gossip. Steve and Two-Bit could make light of it all they wanted, but it still didn't erase the fact that Howard had been wrongly accused of rape and murder. That had to be something that would stick with you for a long time, and here we were watching him like he was on the TV. Like he was on _The Untouchables_ or _Naked City_. It made me feel sort of sick – Mr. Long was always nice to me. I sighed and got up off the couch, not wanting to watch any more. But then I just ran into TD on the back porch, another reminder, and something occurred to me.

"Hey, Soda."

"Yeah?"

"Ya think the Longs would like TD back?" I asked, walking back inside with TD on my heels. The three of them turned to look at us. TD was standing next to me, smiling and wagging his tail. He was old, but he was always happy. "I bet he'd like to see him."

The three of them didn't seem as if they were able to process what I was saying, like I was talking in Ancient Greek or something and not plain English. "He just got back," Soda said. "They'd know we were watchin'. Maybe later, though, they'd like to see him."

I nodded. I just wanted to do something nice for him, make him feel like he wasn't just some freak show. He was _innocent_ – he didn't deserve that sort of treatment. The same way Johnny wouldn't have if he'd lived. He'd just been defending himself. And this time, Mr. Long had just gotten caught up in a misunderstanding. They rushed into it, accusing him. Someone else had been planting those bodies, and we all knew it.

But I think we were all – everybody - getting frustrated that we didn't know _who_.

So I guess it was just a matter of time before we took matters into our own hands.

XXXXX

 **AN: Thanks for reading!**


	15. The Opposite Sex, Drugs, & Rock-'n'-Roll

**Author's Note: aka, Abby plays fast and loose with the rules of CPS. Don't know how I feel about this one completely, but it's long and gets some stuff done.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

TD was smiling at me. I wanted to cry. It was my idea to return him and all, but I'd gotten sort of attached, just having him around every day to sit with me while I sat in my pool out back; having someone to give the food I didn't like under the table; having a friend, really. One that didn't ditch me for work or girls. I don't think TD really cared where he was, and Mr. Long just let him come over whenever he wanted, but still. I liked having him around.

"Aw, c'mon, Pony. It ain't like you're never gonna see him again," Soda prodded, trying to get me out the door. "He's right across the street. This was your idea, and I bet it'll make the Longs happy to see him."

Right. Soda was always right about this sort of stuff.

I walked barefoot across the street, TD trailing along next to me wagging his tail and panting happily through the heat. The asphalt was hot and probably littered with all sorts of crap; maybe shoes would have been smart, but I wasn't about to turn back now. The grass in the Longs' yard had gotten a bit long ever since all of this started, and I wondered if maybe it would be a nice thing to offer to mow it, or maybe mention the idea to Darry and have him do it – I'm still not so great with a mower. I knocked on their front door, and Mrs. Long answered, her face softening when she saw me, which made me feel a bit sad for some reason.

"Ponyboy, honey, how are you?" She asked, smiling at me, and I smiled back.

"Fine, ma'am, how are you?"

"Better every day. What brings you by?"

I looked down at TD. "Well, I was thinkin' that since your husband's back now, I thought maybe he might like his dog back."

TD was still smiling. It was so convenient for him that he obviously had no idea what was going on. Mrs. Long's face softened even more, which I didn't even think was possible. "How nice of you to consider such a thing! I'm sure he'll love to see him – even if I'm not," she said wryly, and I laughed. I guess she wasn't TD's number-one fan. I handed her his leash, but TD didn't move for the time being. I'd just given her back custody.

"How is he?" I asked. "Is he okay?"

Mrs. Long's face darkened a bit. "It was very trying on him. It's quite the ordeal, being wrongly accused of such a heinous crime. Some people still think he did it, but I know he's innocent," she said bitterly, then she sighed. "It's gonna take him some time."

I wanted to ask what it was he needed time for, but I just nodded. I gave TD one last pat on the head as temporary owner, said goodbye to Mrs. Long, and walked back across the hot asphalt to home.

XXXXX

"Cheer up, Ponyboy!" Two-Bit slung an arm around my shoulders and smiled down at me. "You had to give the dog back at some point, but I'm back now, and we're gonna have some fun, ain't we?"

I rolled my eyes. " _Sure_."

Two-Bit frowned. "You tryin' to say you enjoy a _dog's_ company more than mine? Me? Two-Bit Mathews, who has known you since your _birth?_ Shame on you, Ponyboy Curtis. _Shame_."

He wasn't serious, so I just shook my head. Two-Bit could be a bit exhausting; I'd forgotten just how much in his absence. But I did like having him back – things seemed right with him around. Two-Bit just always seems to know what to do. Like today, he said he was done walking for the time being and steered me towards a diner, so we stopped in. He is decisive, and I am not. There was no destination, just a journey. Speaking of journeys….

"You haven't told me enough about San Francisco."

Two-Bit rolled his eyes and took a slug of Coke. "Kid, I told ya – _I had a good time_."

"That's not what I mean. I mean, you still haven't told me a lot about it. What you did."

Two-Bit bit his lip, watching me carefully, considering. I mean, he couldn't have gotten up to anything _that_ bad. It was all free love out there, even if Darry did have a few horror stories to tell me from his newspaper about kids stepping on needles and broken glass, and how it was hard for them being far away from their parents. But I guess that was their decision to run away. "Ya know what I did? _A lotta drugs_ ," he said conspiratorially. My eyes widened a bit.

"Like what?"

He chuckled. "Pot, mostly. We dropped acid once. That was…somethin'."

"'We'? As in…"

"As in me and Bee, yeah." I stared at him. "What? It was fine. Nothing happened. Ya just feel…I don't know how to describe it really. Somethin' you'd have to try yourself. Which you shouldn't do!" He added on quickly. I wilted.

"So you can do it, but not me?" I asked tiredly.

He pointed at me. "Exactly!" I thought about earlier in the summer, and that party I went to with Curly, and that little sugar cube-looking thing they gave me. I think that was acid. I was acting like I was really upset that he said I shouldn't do it, but in reality, I really wasn't all that upset because I knew I was too chicken shit to do it anyways.

"Well, is that all you did? Drugs?" I asked.

"'Course not!" He scoffed. Then he started ticking off on his fingers. "Saw the Golden Gate Bridge, ate a bunch of seafood, went bowling – "

" _Bowling?"_

Two-Bit looked at me like I was stupid. "Well, yeah. I like bowling." He sure did. When Johnny was still alive, they'd be the talk of the bowling alley because Two-Bit was pretty damn good at it, and Johnny would be over at the pinball machine setting high score after high score. Two-Bit laughed and shook his head. "Bee's _terrible_."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Anyways, we did all that, and we got high, and we saw the sights and rode the streetcars and got in the ocean and talked to some groovy people. I ain't ever done anything like that in my life," he added more seriously. Two-Bit sat back in the booth. "And I don't know if I'm ever gonna get to again."

That was sorta sad. But I didn't have time to dwell on how sad it was because the last person in the world that I wanted to see just then showed up.

"Hi, Ponyboy."

Angela had come up to our booth, wearing that same forcibly pleasant expression as last time we talked. Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow, clearly confused by this interaction. Honestly, so was I, but he wasn't here the last time Angela talked to me. Two-Bit no doubt knew Angela – or at least knew of her. Everybody did. Angela liked to talk to older boys usually, but I don't exactly think someone like Two-Bit was her target. Two-Bit usually attracted a certain type of girl, which I know sounds bad, but I don't mean it in a bad way. I mean he usually attracts sort of wild girls, sometimes kinda ditzy, but they make up for it in the looks department. Nowadays, though, that's obviously changed. I forced a smile.

"Hi, Angela."

Angela simpered. "Didn't I tell ya Angel was just fine?"

"Hi, Angel," Two-Bit grinned, screwing with her because she was ignoring him.

"Hello, _Two-Bit_ ," she said coolly. Angela slid her eyes in his direction, adding unnecessarily, "My brother still hates you, ya know."

It was true – Tim really did hate Two-Bit. Nobody cheats Tim Shepard out of two-thousand big ones and gets away with it. That meant bad things for the rest of us, but it wasn't like we were gonna side with Tim over Two-Bit. Two-Bit did what he had to do, and I still don't know everything about the why, but it had something to do with his father and him killing himself. I think. Anyways, Two-Bit just snickered at Angela and said, "That's not news. What's up, Shepard?"

"I'm not talking to you," she said, and she grinned at him deviously and then turned her attention back on me. "Ponyboy, I was wondering if you were going to be at that party this weekend."

I was confused. "What party?" I asked. I didn't know of any parties, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Angela did. She looked at me askance.

"You didn't hear? The one Terry Jones is throwing with his buddy at that old house right outside of town. The old brick – you know the one." Yeah, but I had no clue who Terry Jones was, or why I should care, or why that should make going to this party any more attractive. Two-Bit raised an eyebrow at his name, but smartly said nothing so as not to incur any more of Angela's wrath. "C'mon, you _have_ to come. I'd like you to," she grinned, and then she made the lethal move: she put her hand on my arm for just a second, lingering just barely, and then let go and did a little hair flip and walked off.

It was like alarms started going off in my head. _Danger, danger, Will Robinson!_ I knew Angela was bad news, and I didn't even particularly like her or even _know_ her, but dang, she _was_ pretty….

"Ponyboy. Snap out of it, kid."

I blinked. "What's up?"

Two-Bit stared at me, then he started laughing. "What the hell was _that?_ "

I grimaced. "I think she likes me."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinkin'."

"Kid!" Two-Bit laughed. "Angela Shepard? _Angela. Shepard._ That's bad news!" He hissed.

I rolled my eyes. He was being way over-the-top. "It's not like I like her back."

Two-Bit made a disbelieving face. "I find that hard to believe, Captain Space Cadet. You're still blushin'." I started to lift my hand to my cheek to see if he was right, but I decided to not give him the satisfaction. "She'll eat ya alive." I was sure she would, but at the same time, who was I to turn down such an invitation? She seemed like she really wanted to see me there, and maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to go out and actually do something with myself for a night. Right? Something all on my own.

A hand came down and slapped the table, and I startled and saw Two-Bit staring at me with an intense scowl on his face, his eyes searching my face. I suddenly felt extremely exposed. "Well, shit," he drawled. "You wanna go, don't you?"

I swallowed. "Maybe," I shrugged. "Not because of her, though!" Well, maybe not completely. Maybe she'd put her hand on my arm again, and wouldn't that be nice? Two-Bit just shook his head.

"Eat ya alive," he said again. "That girl is gonna _eat. You. Alive._ "

XXXXX

"I had a thought."

Steve shot Two-Bit a look. "Groundbreaking, really. Congratulations, Two-Bit, I think that's a first for ya."

Two-Bit flipped him off. We were gathered around the coffee table in the front room, all five of us on a Friday night – a Friday night! – trying to put together the pieces of this puzzle. Sodapop had pulled out all the clippings he'd collected over the past few months and had them spread out over the table, all of us examining them. Darry was here, but he was being pretty tight-lipped, and it was obvious he still felt strange about giving anything up even though he wasn't on the jury anymore. He was trying hard to act as if he only knew as much as the rest of us did, but I had the feeling that act wasn't going to last very long.

" _Any_ ways," Two-Bit drawled, "ain't like Long's the only one livin' in that house – his wife's there, too. Why didn't they haul her in, huh? Ain't like a lady can't go to jail."

"You really think Mallory did that?" Darry scoffed. "C'mon, man, you saw her reaction to all this. Besides – this guy's goin' after young girls and rapin' 'em before he kills them. I'd agree with ya if we didn't know all that."

Two-Bit tipped his head in Darry's direction to concede his point. So we were back to square one. I sighed and shuffled through Sodapop's clippings again. He'd added articles about the Dingo getting blown up to his collection of articles about the previous murders and a few cases of arson for insurance fraud. I don't know how all of them connected in Sodapop's mind, but it seemed that anything he deemed suspicious he added to his collection. I'd never seen Sodapop be so meticulous about anything before in his life, besides girls and cars.

"And the only connection between the victims is that they're young and female," Sodapop said, looking off into the distance. "Man, you ever hear of anything so fucked up?" We all shook our heads. It was always too bad when girls got mixed up in stuff. I suddenly thought of Angela, how maybe _she_ was this guy's…type. I thought of Curly, too, then, wondering how he and his shifty behavior and all his talk about what dead bodies look like meant. I hoped to God Curly wasn't caught up in all this and was just weirded out and terrified like the rest of us.

"Darry," Steve said, leveling my brother with a stare, "c'mon, man. Give it up."

"Yeah, since when are you loyal to the justice system?" Two-Bit asked in faux defiance. "Fuck the police!"

Darry rolled his eyes, but then he sighed and looked defeated. "It just…I don't know…"

"We're not gonna tell anybody ya told," Soda tried, and Darry looked at him incredulously.

"You kiddin'? What, you're just tryin' to crack this case for _fun?_ Say you do figger somethin' out – then what? You're just gonna _sit on it?_ And how are you gonna explain how you know all this stuff? It just don't seem right, you guys."

"Yeah, well, none of this does," Two-Bit snapped, then he sighed and deflated.

I wanted to say that I wasn't sure it was right for the five of us to try to solve this on our own and not tell somebody about any of it, to just keep all our speculation to ourselves, but then I looked at Two-Bit and Steve and I saw them trying to mask just how _angry_ they were. My brothers were upset, too, but for a different reason. I was starting to get from my buddies just how seriously they were taking this. It wasn't the first time I thought of this situation and how it could affect Evie or Bridget, but every time it came up around town, guys like Two-Bit and Steve who had girls they cared about were probably on edge. I wondered if maybe _that's_ what was up with Curly – if maybe all of this was just scaring him because he had a sister, he had Angela, and how can any of these guys feel safe letting these girls out of the house? I hadn't ever known a girl who could fight back. Girls like Evie were tough, but still. This was different, and realizing just how close to home this was hitting for the two of them felt like a punch to the gut.

I wanted to be able to do something. I didn't think this was it, but… _something_.

Something to make all of us feel less helpless.

XXXXX

I still don't know for certain why I thought going to that party was a good idea, but I think it all has something to do with Angela, and not that I liked her or anything, but she was Curly's sister, and I would really feel bad if something happened to her even if she is tough and sorta scared me, and it was the only thing I could come up with that even felt close to action, actually doing something. Saturday night, Darry took on an extra shift at the warehouse and Sodapop was going on a double date with Steve and Evie and some rando, and who knows what the heck Two-Bit was getting up to, so I figured I may as well go to have something to do with myself if nothing else.

I took the bus out there like a loser. Well, as close as I could get, which was about a mile out, and the music got louder and louder the closer I got to the house. This really wasn't my kind of scene, but I was already here and it would have been stupid to turn back just so I could sit around and wait for another bus with nothing to do until it came, so I figured I may as well. I was really having to talk myself into this, but I kept reminding myself that I could just say no if I didn't want to do something, and that Angela wanted me to be here, and she was sorta enticing.

But I don't like her.

I don't! Really!

From what I hear, she's not exactly the nicest girl. I don't need that sort of drama.

As I approached the house, I heard someone from the porch call, "Ponyboy Curtis, is that you?"

I looked in the direction of the voice and saw Bridget Stevens sitting on the porch swing, looking both bewildered and happy to see me. I was happy to see her, too. I hadn't seen her since she came back from California, and I still had loads of questions, and I figured she'd probably give me better answers than Two-Bit. I smiled and bounded up the porch steps and over to her. "I thought that was you," she continued, still smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I said smartly. "You like parties?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not exactly. My friend Missy dragged me along. She just wants to meet boys," she shrugged. "Now answer my question."

I sighed. "Angela Shepard asked me to come."

Bridget's eyes widened. "Oh, my, _my_. That girl is the definition of human disaster! What are you doing with the likes of her? You're a _nice_ boy."

A scowl wanted to surface when she said that; everyone's always gonna see me as some little kid, even though Angela and I are the same age and we're both in high school. Just because Bridget and Two-Bit and Steve and Evie are seniors doesn't mean they're necessarily any more adult than I am. "I dunno, I had nothin' else to do, so I came," I shrugged. "Everyone else is busy. Is Two-Bit here with you?"

She shook her head. "Watching his sister," she told me. "And I wouldn't want Missy to third wheel, though she's kinda left me alone out here…." Then she smiled. "But you're here now. Are you supposed to meet with Angela or something?" I shook my head, and Bridget narrowed her brow. "It's funny she asked you to be here when she's already dating somebody."

"She is?" I asked, and I realized I accidentally sounded a bit disappointed, even though I really wasn't. In my head I didn't like her at all – but other parts weren't so opposed, and I think that had something to do with me liking her face. (I'm really quite the romantic, can't you tell?)

Bridget nodded. "His name's Bryon Douglas. I think he lives on the East side, too. I don't know, but I can't imagine any boy I know being interested in the likes of her." It took a second for what she said to catch up with her, and she wilted. "That sounded bad. Sorry."

"It's okay. Why would she ask me to come then?" I thought of her touching my arm and the hair-flipping. That had to be flirting.

"Hell if I know," Bridget laughed. "I had a run-in with her in the fall, and best I can tell, Angela just…takes what she wants."

"But doesn't she want Bryon?"

Bridget shrugged. "Women are mysterious," she joked. "Just ignore her. She's just trying to create drama. Some girls…some girls live for that sort of thing. I'm certainly not one of them," she assured me, but then she laughed. "No matter how much of it I get caught up in. Sit down, Pony. You don't wanna go in there."

I wasn't sure why she said that, but it sounded like a good plan to me. We sat together on the bench, slowing swinging back and forth, and then I decided that it was time to change the subject. "How was San Francisco?"

She lit up. "I was wondering when you'd ask! Oh, it was wonderful. I'm really glad you suggested we go. It was sort of romantic, honestly," she shyly admitted. "It's really wonderful there. All the people are so beautiful, and so _nice_ …nicer than they are here. There's less Republicans," she said, which was clearly a plus to her. "We stayed with a good friend of Cynthia's, so that was sort of our home base after we left Haight-Ashbury, which probably would have been more fun in the spring – now it's just crowded. But the rest of San Francisco still has the whole vibe, ya know? Everyone's just so… _free_ ," she said wistfully. "And I wish things could always be that way, but you have to return to reality, ya know? You can't have all of one or the other all of the time."

I watched her carefully. She was staring out at the road, the dirt driveway, the overgrown yard and out at the sunset. It was late, but it was summer, so the days took their time and stretched on lazily before us. The music was still thrumming inside, so loud that I almost couldn't even recognize the tune. "Guess you learned a pretty important lesson, then," I said quietly, just loud enough she could hear me over the music.

Bridget smiled nostalgically. "Guess I did, huh?"

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but there was no time because some blonde chick burst through the front door and ran up to us, looking a bit lost and scared. Bridget raised an eyebrow, and I wondered if this was her friend Missy. "What's wrong?" She smirked. "Strike out?"

"Why are you still here?" She asked, and she grabbed Bridget's hand and jerked her up. "We need to get out of here!"

Bridget was started to look worried, too. She looked at me. "Ponyboy, c'mon." Missy had linked her arm through Bridget's, and I caught up to them as they quickly walked away from the house. That had ended quickly – and I hadn't even seen Angela. Now I was just more confused than ever about why she was even speaking to me in the first place. Maybe I really shouldn't have bothered coming. Besides getting to talk to Bridget, it was pretty much a waste of time.

"Missy, what the hell's going on?" Bridget asked. We were walking down the dirt driveway and out to the road, walking back in the same direction I'd come from the bus stop. Bridget and Missy were wobbling on the dirt road as they walked, and I figured heels weren't the best shoes for this sort of terrain.

"Some girl went missing. You know John Warren? He just graduated." Bridget nodded. I didn't know him. "Well, he came with…an _escort_ ," she said daintily, "and apparently she disappeared on him!"

Bridget stopped walking and held Missy back, and I stopped, too. "Missy," Bee shook her head and sighed, "that doesn't mean anything. Why are you freaking out? So she jilted him – so what?"

"He said she went off with an older man!"

"And how would he know that?"

"Because they got into an argument and he saw her go off with some guy who'd been eyeing her _all night_ ," Missy said haughtily, crossing her arms.

"They're adults! She can go off with whoever she wants. Did he also happen to know where they went?"

Missy faltered. "Well, no – "

"Then relax. They probably just left. John's a jerk, I don't blame her, even if she is a prostitute."

"I didn't say she was a _prostitute_ , I said she was an _escort_ …."

I tuned out their squabbling. We were surrounded by fields full of crops, and it might have been my imagination – to this day I still don't know – but I was certain I heard a rustling, and suddenly I was with Missy – something was going on here. I reached out and grabbed Bridget's arm, and she gasped sharply and stared at me bug-eyed – I don't think she was completely buying her own argument, either.

"I don't think we're alone," I whispered, my eyes darting around, looking for any immediate threat. All the strange noises combined with Missy's paranoia and all the crap I'd had to put up with surrounding this case the whole summer wasn't doing me any good, and I was convinced that the murderer was creeping towards us and getting ready to kill us so we would keep quiet. Boy, would my brothers be upset when they found out I was dumb enough to sneak out of the house and get myself killed. Darry would probably revive me just so he could chew me out for being so stupid. Bridget squeezed her eyes shut and said through her teeth,

"We're going to die out here. We should've just stayed at your house!"

"I didn't know this was going to happen!" Missy hissed, but even that was too loud and we both shushed her. Missy looked like she was about to start crying. "This sort of thing doesn't _happen_ here!" She squeaked. "This town has always been _safe!_ Oh, why did this have to happen _this_ summer?"

"As opposed to next summer, or perhaps last summer?" Bridget asked sarcastically.

"Oh, not now!"

"Would you both shut up?" I hissed. "He'll hear you! Let's just…walk slowly and quietly to the main road." They both nodded their heads, and we started to slowly continue walking back down the road so we could get the hell out of here. Even if there wasn't anybody in the fields, I was getting a spooky feeling and wanted to get home – I didn't want to stick around just in case the murderer _did_ show up.

Something bright caught my eye, and I saw a couple of squad cars slowly approach us and come to a stop in front of us. Missy and Bridget stopped once they realized the headlights had hit them. My breath caught – I had a sick feeling Missy was right about her hunch. Two officers got out, one from each car, and approached us. Bridget and Missy both looked a bit pale, and I started to get nervous at the serious expressions on the officers' faces, though I tried to reason that cops always looked serious.

"Were you three just leavin'?" The senior of the two asked. We all three nodded, unable to speak we were so shaken, and the officer turned to his junior and said, "Stay here. I've got backup comin' from the other direction. You kids stay with Officer Johnson, ya hear?"

I nodded again, but Missy blurted out, "What's goin' on?"

Officer Johnson offered her what I'm sure was supposed to be a reassuring look. "Got a call. Sounds like there's another body."

XXXXX

"I knew it," Missy whispered, shaking her head. We were all three crammed into the back seat of Officer Johnson's cruiser. "I knew something was wrong the second John told me she'd gone missing."

"Missing?" Officer Johnson repeated. Missy then told him everything she had told us.

"He saw her go off with an older man out the back door, and that was hours ago!"

Officer Johnson hummed thoughtfully. "What's she look like?"

Missy bit her lip in thought. "Tall, bright red hair – probably dyed – in an updo and white headband. She was wearing a green and pink paisley dress and knee socks. She was done-up…nicely," Missy explained thoroughly, careful not to give away the escort part. Officer Johnson hissed.

"Sounds like our victim. That was the description the kid on the phone gave."

Missy made a disbelieving sound and then her face crumpled into tears. Bridget passed her a tissue from her bag, but Missy just held it in her hand as she covered her face and cried. "Is Officer Wells here?" I asked. "He seems to be sort of leading this case."

Officer Johnson shook his head. "Naw, he's off tonight. Think he said somethin' 'bout takin' the weekend? I'd expect him back Monday." Officer Wells seemed to know all about this case, though. It was just our luck that he wasn't here the next time this happened. God, bodies kept dropping wherever I went, it seemed. "Oh, jeeze – honey, he's not gonna get you."

"But he got her!" Missy cried. "Every girl in town knows she could be next!"

Officer Johnson sighed. "I'm takin' you kids home and talkin' to yer parents. We needa get y'all outta here."

"I live with my brothers," I said. "And they're not home."

Officer Johnson looked at me in his rearview mirror. "Where are they?"

"My oldest brother's at work, and the other one's…out. With friends."

"So you don't know where he is?" I shook his head. "Then we'll take ya to the station 'til your brother can pick you up. What'd ya say your name is?"

"I didn't. It's Ponyboy Curtis."

His eyes widened. "Oh," was all he said. I didn't know what that was supposed to mean. "Then yeah, I'll take you to the station, make a few calls, track down your brothers. Darry Curtis is your brother? He's your guardian?" I nodded. "Okay. Okay, then."

"Take me to the station, too," Bridget said suddenly. "I don't want him sitting alone."

Officer Johnson looked like he wanted to say no to her, but Bridget just kept staring at him, and he finally just sighed and nodded his head, and then we were headed back towards town.

XXXXX

The police station was pretty quiet for a weekend. There was a deputy sitting at the front desk, and I was trying to figure out whether he went to high school with Darry or not. He was the kind of guy who looked like any other guy. Know what I mean? He looked like a guy you _could_ know, but maybe you don't. But maybe you do. But maybe you don't. This was all I had to do while I waited for this situation to get worked out. The worst part was that I wasn't the one in trouble, but I felt like I was. There was a cold feeling in my stomach, and I was getting worried I was going to throw up, which would just be the _cherry_ on top of this perfect evening. The phone rang, and the deputy picked it up.

"Mr. Curtis?"

I looked up, and the deputy was looking at me with the phone still held to his ear, one hand covering the mouthpiece. "Yes?"

"Your case worker is coming to the station."

I felt all the blood drain from my face. Now I really _might_ throw up. I wondered if that was one of the calls Officer Johnson made. "She is?" I asked. The deputy nodded. Then he said goodbye to I guess Mrs. Grayson and hung up the phone without saying another word.

I sighed. This had really turned out to be a horrible night, and one that was just going to keep getting worse. I wanted my brothers to get here. Bridget came back just then from the payphone and smiled at me. "My father's coming," she said. "You're sure you don't know where Sodapop is tonight?" I shook my head. "I'm sure Darry will get here soon. Don't worry."

My eyes started to well up. I'm sure everything what she was saying was true, and I appreciated it, but I was also starting to get scared. And now Mrs. Grayson was coming. Also, there was the whole reason we were here, the knowledge of which was making me feel almost dirty. "It happened again," I garbled. "Another girl was killed."

Bridget looked as sad as I felt. She sighed and sat down in the chair next to me. "I know," she whispered. "I know. It's scary," she said shakily. "And I'm so sorry."

"Why're you sorry?" I asked. "I'm not this person's type."

Bridget didn't seem to know how to respond to that statement. That was the truth, though. I had no reason so far to fear for my own life, but I couldn't see why she hadn't gone into hiding. If I were her, that's what I would do. She pursed her lips. "Darry and my father will be here soon. Don't worry."

"But our case worker is coming." Bridget looked confused. "From the state," I clarified. "She's checked up on us every month since our parents died. Last time we saw her she kept talking about how dangerous our neighborhood is."

"Well…isn't it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said miserably, "but now she's coming down here and…and I don't know what she's going to do."

I sniffled, and Bridget looked over at the deputy, who was trying very hard to make it look like he wasn't eavesdropping. She scowled in his direction. "Ponyboy…I'm sure everything's going to be fine." She kept saying things like that, but I didn't believe her, so I just stopped talking and went back to waiting, and that's what she did, too.

"I feel sick," I said, and Bridget put her hand over mine.

"Just breathe," she said. "Everything's going to be fine."

But that wasn't true. Another girl was dead, I was sitting at the police station with an eavesdropping deputy, Darry still hadn't shown up, Mrs. Grayson was coming, and I wasn't sure how Dr. Stevens was going to fix all this. When Darry finally got to the station after what felt like an eternity but was probably only…well, half an hour, maybe, probably less, that's when the tears finally started to leak out a bit, and I knew I wouldn't be able to talk without full-out sobbing.

"Darry?" Bridget asked. "I think we've met before. I'm Bridget Stevens," she said, and she shook my brother's hand. "Ponyboy's alright, just…shaken up," she said. Darry nodded, and he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, his emotionally constipated way of showing affection in this kind of situation.

"You okay, Pony?" He asked, and I shrugged.

"It's been quite the night," Bridget continued softly. "There was another girl." That was all she had to say for Darry to know what she was talking about. "I didn't know what to do so I called my father, but apparently…apparently someone at social services got word and your caseworker is coming to the station," she said gently, and Darry's expression immediately changed.

Mrs. Grayson and Dr. Stevens arrived at the same time, both of them professional-looking and put-together. They looked like real adults, and I considered Darry in his jeans and old T-shirt, and a few more tears leaked out. Mrs. Grayson tried to smile. "Darry, Ponyboy. Officer Johnson called, and I came as soon as I heard what happened."

"Thanks for your concern," Darry said, kind but cautious.

"Of course. And may I ask who – " She gestured to the Stevens'.

"Thom Stevens, and my daughter, Bridget," he said, shaking Mrs. Grayson's hand. "My daughter called me and told me what happened," he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck. This situation must have really been putting him through the ringer, too – after all, he had a daughter. Mrs. Grayson nodded politely and turned to me and my brother.

"I can't help but notice that these sorts of incidents keep happening on the east side of the city, and Ponyboy has been exposed to three separate incidents."

"Oh, are you accusing my kid brother now?" Darry spat.

Mrs. Grayson held up a hand. I noticed the deputy and Dr. Stevens and Bridget watching the three of us with interest. "Don't jump to conclusions, Darrel. I don't believe for a second that Ponyboy did any of this or has anything to do with this. But I do believe that this environment he's in right now is dangerous, and we need to get him out of harm's way."

"' _Harm's way?'"_ Darry repeated. "I'm not following."

"Well, don't _you_ think it's odd that two of these bodies have been found in your neighborhood and then at a party that your brother was in attendance of?" She asked, and I could tell she didn't approve of me going to such a party, thought it was Darry's fault I'd gone in the first place. I was sure Darry would get on me about that later, but I probably deserved it. Suddenly, something clicked for Darry and he glared.

"What are you saying?" Darry asked, looking angrier by the second, but Mrs. Grayson stood her ground.

"Darrel, I believe it would be best for Ponyboy to get out of the neighborhood."

"You mean…give him to someone else," Darry seethed. Mrs. Grayson actually looked a little upset, like she was sorry she had to even bring up the idea, but she kept going.

"Yes," she said. "Temporarily! Until all of this blows over, he'd become a temporary ward of the state."

Darry froze. He and Mrs. Grayson just stared at each other while I felt like my entire world was coming crashing down around my ears. Didn't she have any idea how long this could take to wrap up? Nobody knew what was going on in this investigation! This could take years! "What about Soda?" I heard Darry say. "You gonna take him, too?"

Mrs. Grayson blushed with embarrassment. "He's not the state's main concern."

What did that even mean? He wasn't the state's _"main concern."_ What does that even _mean?_

"Mrs.…Grayson?" Dr. Stevens interrupted, and Mrs. Grayson nodded. "Is there an option in which custody could possibly be transferred – temporarily, of course," he said with a look to my brother, "to another adult? One that the state approves of, naturally, but also a willing party to look after him until all of this is cleared up." Mrs. Grayson seemed to be picking up what Dr. Stevens was putting down, and so were Bridget and Darry, who looked about ready to pounce on the idea. I know they'd just met and all, but I'd bet my life Darry would rather I'd stay at the Stevens' for a few days than be a ward of the state for any period of time.

"Dr. Stevens, are you saying you'd be willing to take custody of this boy? While temporary, the amount of time he'd be staying with you is, at the moment, unclear."

Dr. Stevens didn't even hesitate. "Well, yes."

"And you know this boy?"

"Yes."

Darry's eyebrows shot up, and it was clear he had questions about how we knew each other, but I would explain to him later. Mrs. Grayson finally considered me and decided to hear what I had to say. "Ponyboy? Is this agreeable to you? Does staying at the Stevens' for a little while sound alright to you?" She was speaking to me like I was a child. I felt myself nod, still too paralyzed to speak. She turned back to Darry, and gently asked, "Darrel? Would this situation work for you?"

Darry looked at all of us. "Not that I don't trust him, but…I'd rather have him with me, ma'am."

"I'm afraid I don't feel comfortable with that, Darrel, and after everything Ponyboy has been through, the state has become extremely concerned. They think this _temporary_ situation is necessary for his safety. This has nothing to do with you, Darrel. I want you to understand that."

In all the time she had known us, I think that was the truly nicest thing she had ever said to Darry about the job he was doing raising me and Soda. I could see in Darry's face that he thought so, too. "Okay, then," he whispered. "I consent."

"You consent," Mrs. Grayson confirmed. She pursed her lips. "Dr. Stevens, with Mr. Curtis's consent, and your willingness, I think I can allow for you to take temporary custody of Ponyboy."

Dr. Stevens, Bridget, and even Darry looked relieved. My relief came on slowly, as it hit that Mrs. Grayson wasn't going to take me away to some dank state government facility. Then it hit me that I would instead be staying on the west side in the big house that Bridget and her father called home, that for the time being Dr. Stevens was my state-appointed guardian. That I wouldn't be getting in the truck to go home with Darry, but in the Stevens' T-Bird. Mrs. Grayson walked out with all of us, and Darry roughly grabbed me in the parking lot and pulled me to him in a crushing hug. I thought it was a bit ridiculous at first, since I was only going to be on the other side of town and Mrs. Grayson hadn't said anything about us not being able to see each other, but then I thought about how much work Darry put into just _keeping_ me. And how even this could feel something like a failure to him.

"Be good," was what he said. "We'll all come by. As soon as possible," he added quietly. Mrs. Grayson still didn't say anything. I watched Darry go off to the truck and get in while Mrs. Grayson procured some papers for Dr. Stevens to sign. Bridget slid in the backseat, and she patted the spot next to her. I had expected her to sit up front, but it was nice of her to sit next to me. I would have felt like such an outsider sitting alone.

"It's going to be alright," Bridget said again. "It _is_ alright. This is just temporary," she reminded me.

"I know," I said, trying to sound calm and confident, my voice only shaking a little.

Dr. Stevens got behind the wheel and watched Mrs. Grayson and Darry pull out of the parking lot with a melancholy look. He looked at me through the rearview mirror. "I'm sorry about this, Ponyboy. But I couldn't stand by and…and let that woman take you to God knows where. Your brother…it would have broken him."

I knew he was right, and I was grateful. I tried to smile at him, and nodded to let him know that I understood, that I would much rather be here than in some boys' home, which was the truth. I think I was starting to shake, though, my body buckling from all the stresses of the night. Damn Angela Shepard. Bridget put an arm around my shoulders, and I took a deep, steadying breath as Dr. Stevens put the car in drive, pulled out of the station parking lot, and the three of us headed to the west side.

XXXXX

 **AN: It was unbelievably hard to not be able to make _Scooby-Doo_ references in this chapter, but alas, it did not exist yet. Also, I highly doubt people said " _Fuck the police"_** **with any regularity back then, but I couldn't help myself.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	16. Girls are Gross, and Other Ruminations

**Author's Note: I love how everyone's reaction to the last chapter was to assume that Two-Bit is just…always at the Stevens' house all the time now, and I'm here to confirm for you all that assumption is 100% correct.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Alright, come here, Ponyboy."

I followed Bridget upstairs while her father spoke with someone on the phone. I had obviously been in their house before, but only ever during the day and only ever really in the library; now it was full dark out, and I was seeing parts of their house that I hadn't ever seen before as Bridget flitted around and I trailed her. There wasn't even any time to turn on the lights, it seemed; just one in the kitchen and the one coming out of Dr. Stevens' office, filtering out from underneath his door. Bridget had led me upstairs, and there was an undeniable spookiness to being in their big old house at night like this, without much light or sound. If I let my imagination run wild, it felt like something out of _Gone with the Wind_ or something – like a real southern plantation.

She led me down a dark hallway and stopped in front of a door, reaching up on her toes and extending herself as much as she could so she could grab a key off the top. There was so much wood paneling in this house – made it feel even darker. Bridget unlocked the door and gently pushed it open to reveal a cold and even _darker_ room behind it. She waltzed in and turned on the lamp, which cast a warm glow over what I now realized was a guest room. A guest room that appeared largely untouched, actually. Bridget stood by the bed, her hands held in front of her, looking as if she felt a bit awkward.

"So this is where you'll be staying," she finally said, her sweet voice cutting through the silence as she tried to smile at me. "I know it's not much, but there's an attached bath, at least."

 _Not much?_ I sometimes forgot that Bridget and her father came from money. I'd gotten so used to her, gotten more and more used to the idea that she and Two-Bit were a thing, that it was easy to forget that her life was very, very different from mine. Now, I was temporarily living in her house, and they had put me up in a room that had its own bathroom. Its own freaking bathroom! I'd never had my own bathroom before, always had to share with my brothers, and even our friends sometimes. Everything was sorta screwed up right now, but hey – I supposed there might be a few perks. And now I didn't have to sneak around to use their library.

"It's great, thanks," I said, still looking around, sounding a bit distracted. Everything was just so… _clean_. And _neat_. And I was going to be sleeping in here? Me? I was East-side scum. It was still a bit baffling to me.

"Do you need anything?" She asked anxiously. "Water? Uh…warm milk? Extra pillows? I think we have a box fan if you think it's too hot, but we do have air conditioning." I just stared at her. "Ponyboy?"

I shook my head. "I'm good," I whispered.

"Okay," she replied reluctantly. "Um. Well, if you…if you do need anything, you can get whatever you want from the kitchen. And my room is close, do you know which one it is?" I shook my head again. "Okay, well, if you go out your door, turn right to the end of the hall, then left, there's my door. Okay? Okay. Goodnight, Ponyboy."

She hustled right out of there before I could barely work myself up enough to mumble back, "Goodnight."

XXXXX

 _There's water up to my ankles, and it's rising at a slow and steady rate. I can still move through it easily enough for now, so I do, and I come to realize that I'm in the library. It must be the night of the big storm because, well, water, and when I look out the window the sky is dark gray, almost black, and lightning occasionally streaks across the sky. I'm the only person here, though, at least in this room. There's only the one light on over the checkout desk where Mrs. Locklear usually is, but she's not there._

 _Dream-Me is pretty sure I shouldn't be here._

 _Instead of listening to myself, I start walking. The water, even though it's rising, is draining into the basement down the staircase, and Dream-Me knows this is kinda weird, so Dream-Me naturally decides to waltz downstairs and follow the water into the basement, and the water is definitely a lot deeper down there, up to my waist, so I wade through the water away from the staircase and into the paperback romance section._

 _And there's a body floating there._

 _Actually, there are a few bodies floating around in paperback romance, and since Dream-Me is clearly the most stupid person alive, I decide to reach out and roll it over, and then I'm face-to-face with Angela Shepard's dead, bloated, waterlogged body. Nothing spectacular about it, but she's clearly dead. I just can't tell if she's dead because she drowned, or because of something else. Dream-Me doesn't make much of this and keeps wading through the ever-rising water, now past my waist, and roll over the next one, and it's Evie. And then Bridget. Both of them look the exact same as Angela did – pale and slimy and gross, and most importantly, dead._

I woke up with a rough swallow and a nauseous feeling rolling through my stomach like I've been on a boat, and I now know what that feels like, and I don't get seasick, so I wonder if the nausea is just from me walking around in the water in my dream, or from what I saw, too. Probably. It's strange that I'm remembering my nightmares these days, but the image of my friends' – and Angela's – dead bodies makes me curl in on myself and rock, trying to get rid of the uneasy feeling. I almost decided to check and make sure Bridget's actually in her room, actually still alive, but then I tell myself I'm being ridiculous, of course she's there. Of course she's alive. So is Evie, and so is probably Angela. I tell myself that over and over, wishing Sodapop was here to make it all go away, but he's not, he's at home, and the state doesn't care what happens to him.

They don't care. He's not who they're concerned about.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and I can feel a few tears track down my face, and I rock and repeat my mantra to myself and put all thoughts of the state and child protective services out of my mind until I fall back to sleep.

XXXXX

I couldn't quite remember where I was at first when I woke up the next morning. Blinking myself into awareness, I noticed several things one by one in quick succession. The first was that this room didn't even _smell_ like my room – much too clean, not a note of nicotine or dirty laundry, which meant that the room itself was probably way cleaner than my own, and bigger. And the bed was a lot bigger than my bed at home, too. The mattress didn't squeak as much and wasn't nearly as lumpy, either. All in all, if it weren't for my nightmare, this was one of the best nights' sleep I'd had in ages. I was already feeling that West side privilege, and at only eight in the morning.

There was also no noise. Not a single sound. I was used to waking up to the busy backlog of my brothers running around the house getting ready for work, running the shower and wondering out loud where certain articles of clothing were and making breakfast. I was used to hearing the slam of the front door as Steve and Two-Bit showed up each morning, as they inevitably did almost every day. Sure, I had gotten used to being alone most of the time this summer, but there were still people in my life, filling up them-shaped holes. I just wasn't used to this, this silence, and making even the smallest noise felt like too much, like when my feet touched the ground as I got out of bed, making the floors creak, or when I turned on a slightly-squeaky faucet in the bathroom (but hey – I still got that baby _all to myself_.)

A shower was my top priority. After the events of last night, I felt like I was dirty, and not just from the dusty roads on the outskirts of town, no – from something much more sinister, something that was more than skin-deep. The shower had great pressure, and plenty of hot water, and the towels were so clean and felt so new…this was really quite the experience already. When I stepped out, I felt a little more raw, a little more scrubbed down, a little cleaner. I looked in the mirror, hoping for any sign of a beard and not finding much.

I wondered what Darry had told Sodapop.

I quickly put that thought out of my mind, knowing the longer I dwelled on it the sadder I would become, and besides – it wasn't as if they were so far away. So I just took one last mournful look in the mirror before getting dressed and heading downstairs, where I found Bridget and her father in the kitchen, her father talking about something. I felt a bit awkward interrupting, and they seemed to notice me right away. I bet they would, considering it was usually just the two of them in the house.

"Morning," I said. Bridget smiled.

"Good morning, Ponyboy," she greeted, and her father grinned at me.

"Sleep well?" He asked, looking worried that I hadn't. I nodded, and he looked relieved. "Good."

"Are you hungry? I was just about to make breakfast."

Now that I thought about it, I was starving. "I could go for that," I said shyly.

She got to work on some eggs and toasting up bagels, and I sat down across from Dr. Stevens, who was still flipping through the paper. "There's an article about last night, if you're interested," he told me casually. "But I can obviously see why you wouldn't be."

I gave him a weak smile. "I'm good. Is there anything…anything new?"

"Any new developments, you mean?" I nodded. Dr. Stevens shook the paper again, like he was shaking clues loose. "Doesn't seem to be. Just a list of victims. This isn't an investigative piece – just reporting." My shoulders slumped, but I nodded. Bridget put plates of eggs and bagels in front of each of us, setting out butter and jams and cream cheese. I didn't like grape or raspberry all that much, so I settled for one half with butter and one half with cream cheese. "However," Dr. Stevens continued more cheerfully, "I decoded that message in your book."

"What message?" Bridget asked. Dr. Stevens smiled at me.

"Well, Ponyboy found a message in Morse Code in the inside cover of _Catch-22_ that he got secondhand."

I perked up. "So? What's it say?"

He pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket, and I got the feeling he'd made decision to tell me this morning as some sort of way to cheer me up – and hey, if it said something cool, like something about where hidden art was or secret military plans, it probably would cheer me up. Dr. Stevens cleared his throat and read, "'We made it out alive, buddy! There were times when I thought for sure that we wouldn't. I know it's been a while, but I read this and thought of the time we had over there. Wasn't no picnic! _There are things that we saw that I wish I could forget…there's a guy who gets his torso blown off in this book, just leaves his legs…it's like the guy who wrote this saw the same thing we saw that day. Do you think he knows that stuff like that really happened?_ Hope this brings back some of the good memories _._ _If there were any at all_.'"

I raised my eyebrows. Talk about a spoiler. "Woah," I breathed.

"Woah is right," he agreed.

"Things like that really happened?" Bridget asked as she spread raspberry jam onto her bagel and trying to look unbothered by the graphic description.

"All sorts of things happened," her father shrugged, and it was clear he didn't want to say anything else, so he looked back at me. "Well? What do you think?"

Thing is, I wanted to ask him the same question – he'd been a pilot in the war, what _had_ he seen? "Well, what do you think? Do you think Joseph Heller knew stuff like that happened?"

"If he doesn't, he's not far off the mark." That was a more roundabout way to at least get a vague answer, and Bridget glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, and I shrugged at her. "My biggest question is why the author of the note felt the need to encode any of his message if the book was only for the receiving party's eyes. Maybe for the novelty of it."

"Maybe paranoia," Bridget sneered. "He's a bit cryptic at the end there, too – probably putting up a front of some sorts."

He tipped his head to concede her point, and it occurred to me that I never had conversations like this at my house, with my brothers or my friends. And they talked all hoity-toity, too. I kinda loved it. "I should get going," Dr. Stevens sighed. "I'm conducting a few interviews for assistants and such today."

"Good luck," Bridget told him.

"Lord knows I'll need it. If any of these graduate students were even half as naturally curious as Ponyboy here," he grinned at me, "I'd be in good shape."

I smiled back at him. I wondered what it would be like to do his job, to teach and write books and have access to all those books and all that knowledge. He kissed Bridget on the head as he left and said goodbye to me, too. Bridget watched his retreating back and waited for him to close the garage door to speak again. "Ya know," she said wistfully, still staring at the door, "if he'd had a son, I'm sure he'd want him to be just like you."

XXXXX

"Oh, _shoot_."

I looked up from the comics. Bridget looked distressed as she came into the living room. "What's up?"

"I forgot I promised Cherry I'd play tennis with her and our friends. She's out front, but I can't go – "

"Why not?" I interrupted, and Bridget looked at me funny. "You made plans."

"But you're here," she said, like I was stupid. "I can't just leave you here."

"It's fine," I shrugged. "I'll just do what I always do and go read."

"But Ponyboy! After last night…oh, c'mon, I don't just want to leave you alone."

I really did appreciate her concern, but it wasn't necessary. To be honest, I just wanted to pretend like things were normal. Like I wasn't actually staying here – that I was just over here reading, using the library, and that she was just going out to play some tennis while I did so, and then she could come back and ask me what I thought of the latest book. That was all I wanted – for things to be normal. That is all I've ever wanted. So I just shrugged again.

"It's really fine. I'm just gonna read. And you won't be gone that long, will you?"

She faltered. "Probably not. Maybe an hour and a half. We're just hitting, and then I'll take a shower and come back."

"Then go."

Bridget stared at me a moment longer with her watchful eyes, then went upstairs and changed into tennis whites, yelling a goodbye to me as she ran out the door. I watched her from the front window, staying behind a curtain so none of her friends could see me. Yeah, there was Cherry in her red Stingray with hair to match, and Marcia, and Missy, too. How could Missy go from crying over a girl getting murdered to playing tennis in less than twenty-four hours? And Bridget, too? I guess they just wanted to pretend like things were normal, too. I let the curtain fall back and I climbed back upstairs to the library, and settled in with _The Tempest_ for a while, wondering about what the ocean was like. And then I got hungry and floated downstairs, hoping for a Pepsi and a sandwich.

Being along in someone else's house sure is strange. Everything about me felt strange right now, everything about my life, everything about this town felt topsy-turvy, like we were living in the upside-down, so I guess my ending up here for a while was just par for the course. Some irrational part of me thought Bridget would try to turn me into a soc or something, prep me out, but I knew that was ridiculous. Probably.

I opened up the icebox and didn't find any Pepsi, which was a bit disappointing, but there was some iced tea, so I went for that and a turkey sandwich. It felt weird digging around in someone else's fridge, and at that realization, I figured that just about everything was weird and I may as well just stop thinking about it and get on with my life, or nothing would ever feel okay again.

" _Kid?_ "

I whipped around so fast I almost dropped my sandwich – _almost_. It was just Two-Bit who had snuck through the back door, and we were both staring at each other like we'd just caught the other casing the joint. I calmly set down my lunch and wiped my hands on my jeans while Two-Bit still watched on, bewildered. "What the hell are you doing here, Ponyboy?"

I cocked my head. "Darry didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? Kid, I just woke up and came straight over here. What's the skinny?"

So now Two-Bit was coming over here first? Did he ever come to our place first anymore? I gawked. "There was…another girl got killed last night," I breathed. "At that party. I went, and…and Bridget's friend dragged her along, and we were all there when it happened. And then the cops took us to the station and Mrs. Grayson came and…and she said that she didn't think it was safe for me in our neighborhood right now." Two-Bit blanched a bit as he took in all this information, serious as all get-out. "What…what are _you_ doin' here?"

"Don't change the subject," he deadpanned. "Why are you _here?_ "

I swallowed. "Bridget's dad took temporary custody. Darry said it was okay, and I…I know him. He's let me use his library ever since the public one flooded." I almost said he was my friend, but wouldn't that have sounded…ya know what? Whatever. Two-Bit sat down slowly at the kitchen table, still watching me.

"You serious?" He asked. I nodded. "Jesus," he breathed. "Where's Bridget?"

"Country club. Playing tennis." Two-Bit rolled his eyes and then smacked his hand on the table, grumbling about stupid, stuck-up country club girls. "I told her she should go. She forgot she'd made the plans after everything, and I felt bad, and she felt bad about leaving, but I just…wanted to pretend like this was a normal day. And that everything last night didn't happen."

Two-Bit considered me for another few moments then sighed. "Right. Right, right."

"So…what _are_ you doin' here?"

"Whaddya _think_?"

I blushed. "What, did you have plans with her, too?"

"Not exactly. I just…come over, ya know – sometimes."

This was awkward. "Oh," I mumbled. "Um. Well, she'll be back soon."

"Good," Two-Bit grumbled, and then he got up and started digging through their fridge, settling on just a glass of iced tea. He seemed pretty distraught. "So what's the low-down? Are they allowed to see you?"

"I guess," I shrugged. "Mrs. Grayson just thinks are neighborhood is too dangerous."

Two-Bit tipped his head. "It is," he agreed. "Anyone who thinks it ain't is batshit crazy. I just don't know if you're necessarily any safer here."

"She don't like how I seem to always be around when a body drops. Says it keeps happening on our side of town, and that I'm too close to it or something." I shrugged. "I'd rather be here than in a boys' home."

"Yeah, guess so."

We let it go quiet, which made the sound of the front door being opened and shut sound as loud as gunshot going off. We could hear Bridget humming as she made her way towards the kitchen, and she stopped in her tracks with her brow narrowed when she saw us. "Hi, Two-Bit. What are you doing here?"

"Why else am I ever here?" He hooked his thumb at me. "I'm more curious about this one."

Her shoulders fell. "He didn't tell you yet?"

"No, he told me. It's just still confusin' as hell."

"What's confusing?" I asked. Two-Bit just shook his head.

"In a philosophical way, I mean." Bridget just rolled her eyes and got herself a glass of water. "I mean – you? Stayin' here in this house? Careful, Ponyboy Curtis – they'll turn ya all preppy."

"No, we won't. Ponyboy is still going to be Ponyboy," she smiled at me. "No matter where he goes."

XXXXX

"You're not that slick, you know."

I looked over at Bridget who was sitting on the porch steps. I had been busy watching the road, waiting. Two-Bit had gotten fed up and called over reinforcements – I didn't know if he just meant my brothers or Steve, too, but probably Steve, too. I raised my eyebrows. "Whaddya mean."

She smirked. "We all saw you in the window watching us. Like I said, you're not that slick."

I blushed. "I didn't mean for you to see me."

"I know, that makes it funnier," she giggled. "Cherry asked about you."

If possible, I blushed even deeper. "She did? What…what did she ask?"

"Well, for one, they were _all_ curious about what you were doing in my house…Missy and I filled them in on last night. They'd already heard what happened because they saw it in the paper, too, but we told Cherry and Marcia that we were all there last night, and that Missy was actually one of the last people to see that girl alive." Bridget twisted her lips to the side and sighed through her nose. "Anyways, I told them everything that happened last night, which Missy didn't know. So. Now they know," she shrugged. She eyed me. "You think she's cute."

I stammered, and she started smiling again, but I was saved by the sound of our truck and Steve's hotrod pulling up in front of our house. Bridget stayed put, breathing in sharply, probably wondering what the heck her neighbors would think of this sight, but I popped up and immediately saw Sodapop making his way up the front walk, and I met him halfway, grinning stupid at him.

"I go on one date!" He laughed. "One! And suddenly…" He gestured to Bridget's house. "What the hell, kid?"

I just kept smiling and hugged him. It hadn't even been a full day since I'd last seen him, and maybe it felt different because I didn't know when I would be going back home, to stay. When I pulled away, I saw not just Steve, but Evie, too, and then all of us were together, and there was just always something that felt right about that.

"Yoohoo, boys!" We all turned and saw Two-Bit leaning against the opposite pillar of Bridget, waving to us like some sort of dummy dandy. "Oh, you _came!_ Come inside, come in _side!"_

I saw Bridget roll her eyes at the exact same time I heard Darry sigh and felt him clap his hand down on my shoulder. I knew it was him – something about the weight of him just pushing down on me. He pushed me towards the house, and we all followed Two-Bit like this was his house and not Bridget's, and we all sighed in relief at the air conditioning – it was just too hot outside to be alive. (I wouldn't have said it to any of them without one of them bringing it up, but that was definitely another one of those perks – sweet, sweet air conditioning!)

"Lordy, Bee Stevens," Evie breathed, fanning herself, "I think I might just stay here the rest of my life. I'm sick of the only time I get to cool down bein' when I open my icebox."

Bridget snorted as she came back into the room clutching long, cool bottles of Coke for everybody. "Far as space is concerned, that's not a problem."

"But as far as you're concerned?" Soda asked smartly, and she grinned slow.

"Far as I'm concerned, let's just say I have a reputation to maintain." And Evie and Sodapop laughed, and Two-Bit and Steve just rolled their eyes, and Darry…Darry did nothing.

"Why'd you call us all here, Two-Bit?" Darry asked.

"Yeah, and what'd I have to tag along for?" Evie asked, narrowing her eyes at Two-Bit.

Two-Bit held up a finger – _just wait a minute, guys_ – went back into the kitchen, then came back into the living room with the paper, the one Dr. Stevens had been reading, flipped to the page with the article about last night. "I had a revelation."

"Oh, please enlighten us," Steve deadpanned. He was looking pretty comfortable lounged back on Bridget's sofa.

"Well," Two-Bit drawled with a grin, "have we ever thought that these girls might be connected?"

"Sure we have," Darry shrugged. "All the reports say that they all happened at different places, and no one's saying they knew each other, or that they even worked at or lived in the same place, so what're you gettin' at?"

"Yeah, but just cuz they were all dumped in different places don't mean they ain't close," he pointed out. "I mean, Pony's here cuz they're all happenin' on our side of town."

"So far," Evie piped in.

"Well, sure," Two-Bit shrugged. "But there were two bodies found right on our street thereabouts, yeah?" We all nodded. "Then there was the one last night, and that's – what? That house is maybe twenty minutes in the opposite direction even from us, so even further east than here. And the other two girls – Sodapop, where'd it say they were found?"

Soda thought about it, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling and recalling all those clippings of his. "First chick…well, she went missin' first – "

"From where?"

"She was last seen in Woodward Park, but they found her body near Riverside, in the riverbed." I swallowed, thinking of my dream last night.

"And how 'bout the second one?"

"Uh, Cincinnati. South Cincinnati."

"And…one on North St. Louis, one on the intersection on St. Louis and East Independence." He looked over at Bridget. "Bee, you gotta map?"

"A map?" She repeated.

"Well, sure – you're the newbie. Oh, and a pen." It took her a minute, but Bridget found a map of Tulsa in her father's office, and she brought back a bright red pen, too, and handed them off to Two-Bit, who started marking the spots where bodies had been found. First at Riverside by the bridge, South Cincinnati, then the two that had been by us, then – "And last night. Where's that place?"

"This side of Oklahoma 11," Bridget said stonily. "Near the intersection of North Yale and East Pine."

"Perfect," Two-Bit said, and he drew one last big red _X_ on North Yale. Then he shoved the map into the middle of the coffee table, and we all looked at it.

"Okay," Steve drawled. "So what does this prove? That we can read a map? That we've been reading the paper? I'm lost."

"All those things, and that they keep happening further and further away from the Arkansas. And last night, it was a Friday night, yes?" We all nodded. "Soda – when did the body before that drop?"

"A Friday," Soda murmured, and something seemed to light up in him. "The one before that, too."

"And the one before that," Evie mused. Suddenly we were all catching on, and Two-Bit grinned.

"So now we know two things – one, that whoever's doin' this is getting' further and further away from the center of town, and two, that these bodies are dropping on Friday nights."

We all sat with that information for a few minutes. I pulled the map towards me and Soda, and suddenly I could feel my blood thrumming in my ears. "How'd you figure this out?" I breathed, and Two-Bit laughed.

"Some things just hit ya," he shrugged. "I dunno, I just saw the article and started thinkin'. And we'd been gettin' nowhere with it, so…"

"So what this means is, that in another six days or so, another girl's gonna show up dead near" – Evie traced the line of X's – "maybe somewhere around state road eleven."

"It's as good a guess as any," Darry mused. "Jesus," he breathed. "Not to get our hopes up – "

"But it feels like a lead, almost," Steve cut in, agreeing with him. "Jesus."

That seemed to be the consensus. "It's been right in front of my face the whole time," Soda said, sounding angry with himself. "Kept all that information for nothing."

"Not for nothing!" Two-Bit exclaimed. "Man, if you hadn't poured over it so many times and practically damn well memorized it, I don't think we'd have figured this out."

For as anxious as this made me, there was also something _good_ about figuring this out. This _was_ a lead, it had to be! It was better than anything the police had, which reminded me: "Officer Wells, he's apparently lead on this, but he's out of town. Officer Johnson said he should be back Monday."

"Well, I'll go tell 'em anyways," Two-Bit said, and Steve and Soda both looked alarmed as Two-Bit stood up.

"You're gonna go to the fuzz?" Steve asked, looking at him like he was crazy.

"Sure," Two-Bit shrugged, folding up the map and putting it in his back jeans pocket. "I don't got anything to feel guilty about, and those morons need a push to get their fat, donut-eating asses moving."

"Well, shit," Soda shook his head, "Two-Bit Mathews willingly going to the cops. Call the preacher – might as well be end days!"

XXXXX

Everyone eventually had to leave, and Darry and Soda both hugged me hard as we stood outside, our combined body heat uncomfortable, but all I wanted was to go back home with them, no matter how intelligent the conversation here was.

"It's weird, ya know?" Soda said, staring at Bee's house. "I mean, it's better you're here than anywhere else, I'd say, if ya gotta be elsewhere but home. And Bee's a real nice girl, I like her, and Two-Bit obviously likes her, so I trust her. But it's just weird, and with everything going on…"

"I know," I agreed, staring back at the house with him. "But at least I get my own bathroom."

His eyes widened, and I grinned like crazy.

Two-Bit was still there when everyone else drove off, but it looked like he was just about getting ready to leave. Bridget sat in the living room on the couch, right where I'd left her, and they were talking about this whole situation, and Bridget seemed to agree that Two-Bit should go to the cops with this information – even if we were wrong, it was as good a lead as anything else.

"I just think this should end as soon as possible," she said, sounding level-headed, but she had her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection.

"Agreed," Two-Bit nodded once, definitive. "I'll see you…later?"

Bridget nodded. "Later."

I waited outside the room while they…said goodbye. I caught them kissing, and they both smiled, and then Two-Bit hoofed it out the back door, Bridget watching after him. I took that as my cue to come back in, hoping she wouldn't be acting all dreamy when I talked to her. "Hey."

She looked over. "Hey," she parroted. "You okay?" I nodded. "Yeah, I think I am, too. I'm a bit surprised he pieced all this together just looking at that article, but hey – stranger things have happened. And it's good that this has some direction now."

"Yeah," I sighed, agreeing. "Ya know what I've been wondering?"

"What?"

"Why'd Angela invite me to that party just to ignore me?"

Bridget laughed. "Shoot, Ponyboy, I couldn't tell you. Girls are fickle, and like I said, she's dating someone else." She pursed her lips. "But…she really might be interested in you. Maybe she wanted to hear by word of mouth if you'd shown up. Maybe she wanted to gauge _your_ interest." She raised an eyebrow. "Are you interested? Or is Cherry Valance more your type?"

I blushed, and she laughed again. "Can we just watch TV?" I asked, and she nodded and patted my arm.

"Yeah, we can watch some TV. C'mon, my favorite soap is on, and you have a _lot_ of catching up to do…."

XXXXX

 **AN: I am extremely directionally challenged, so I feel I should get extra credit for getting on Mapquest and figuring all this out.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	17. Write About It in Your Diary

**Author's Note: You can tell I was hungry when I wrote this. I think I eventually ate.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

It was strange living with a girl. Of course, I'd lived with my mother. She had been neat and regimented, but I guess living in a house full of guys at all times, she hid away most of of what would give away her femininity. I'd never seen my mother's underwear lying around, or her makeup left out, or any of _her_ hair stuff, and the last time I'd seen her in anything less than a slip was a pretty long time ago – I guess she was sort of shy in that way. And it wasn't as if she didn't make a good effort keeping up with us guys, and we all loved her, but it was easy to forget that she was different from us. Being with Bridget this much was reminding me of that – of her. I mean, not only did she and her father live in this big, immaculate house full of stuff and air conditioning, but when she'd sometimes let me come into her room because I liked sitting on her window seat, that's when it struck me most.

Pink walls and white sheets and flowers and a vanity covered in makeup and perfume and pictures of The Beatles and Bob Dylan and The Byrds and The Stones plastered everywhere – even a couple pictures of Paul Newman and other so-called dreamy actors. It was a girl's room, alright. And she was, without a doubt, a girl. It was just…it was just different. It made my heart ache for my home, my brothers, to wake up in my own bed in a house that was familiar to me. But I have to admit – there was something about being here that felt right, too. I just don't know why that is.

"I think we need lunch. Come help me."

It was one of those stiflingly hot days, the kind where at most all you want to do is lay around and complain about just how hot it is. I groaned and peeled myself off the couch and followed Bridget into the kitchen, where she was already pulling out sandwich stuff. There's nothing quite like a good sandwich – ya know? The Stevens, I had discovered, always had the best food in their house, which meant the best stuff for sandwiches: doughy white bread, lettuce that was nowhere near wilted yet, juicy tomatoes, other cheeses besides cheddar and swiss…the list really goes on.

"God, I wish we had a pool," Bridget lamented, staring out at the backyard, munching on carrots while she fixed our plates. We went out on the back porch with them along with a bag of potato chips and tall glasses of iced tea. We could hear the radio playing from inside. For as hot as it was, at least we didn't have to do anything besides sit around and eat. I could work with that. "Then we wouldn't have to bother with the country club at all – just wake up first thing and swim."

"You can't play tennis here," I pointed out. Bridget shrugged.

"I guess. Tennis is fun and all, but it's really a social thing. Missy and I are thinking of entering in one of their tournaments in the spring, though. Could be fun."

"Yeah. I've never played before."

I almost said that it was probably some sort of rich person thing, but I bit it back; I wasn't out to offend her. Bridget had already done too much for me, had prevented me from being taken away too far from my brothers, so the least I could do was not be a jerk, especially since I was eating a lot of their food and Dr. Stevens had commented that they hadn't had to buy groceries so often as they had since I'd come to visit. I didn't think I was _that_ bad, though.

"You wouldn't like the club anyways," she said dismissively. "They're all the same."

"Well, I wouldn't know. I've never been to one," I reminded her, but I smiled.

"Trust me, then – they're all the same. They've all got the same activities and the same dining rooms and the same ballrooms and the same people. They're all the damn same. You're not missing out. I tagged along with Two-Bit to your pool one day, and let me tell you – water's water wherever you go."

"So the pools here ain't any different from the Pacific Ocean?"

Bridget laughed around a bite of her sandwich, covering her mouth with her hand out of propriety, I suppose. She had the best manners of anyone I'd ever met. Even Evie was pretty lax about things like that. "Okay, yeah, that's pretty different. But you know what I mean, don't mince words. I don't care how smart you are – no one likes a smartass."

I smirked. "Sure they do."

It took a second for it to click with her, but when it did, she blushed scarlet. Then we were quiet again, just sitting on her porch in a friendly, comfortable silence. It was getting easier and easier to be around her, and I'd gotten more and more used to the idea of her being a part of…us. My whole life, I'd known who I could count on. These days, after losing some of those people, it was starting to feel as if those spaces were being filled up again with others, people who I never would have expected. Any port in a storm, I suppose. But these people weren't just any ports – they were family and friends, and for all the changes I've had, I didn't mind this one so much.

"You know, Two-Bit and I are doubling up with Steve and Evie tomorrow and going bowling. Would you like to come? You should get out of the house."

"Sure," I said. "Sounds fun. Y'all won't mind me being there?"

"Of course not. We'd love to have you there." She smiled conspiratorially. "Two-Bit and I have come up with a nickname for the two of them."

"What is it?"

She snickered. "Stevie."

And maybe it was the heat, but that just absolutely set us off.

XXXXX

The bowling alley was a great spot to ride out a heat wave, so I was glad the lovebirds had felt generous enough to invite me along. Again, it made me miss my brothers, but there was something about hanging out with Steve and Two-Bit, and even Evie and Bridget, that was nice, that made it feel as if they liked me for me, not just for who my brothers were. I wonder if I'll always wonder if they like me just because I'm my own person, but times like this make me feel sure that they do.

"Ya know, Two-Bit, it's times like this where I remember you aren't a talentless loser."

Two-Bit chuckled and looked back at the ten fallen pins behind him, then shot a dangerous smirk at Steve. "Well, I'm just full of surprises."

"Can't argue there."

Huckett's Downtown Bowl was one of the – literally – coolest spots in town, and probably also one of the cleanest. Cheap, too, at twenty cents a game. Mr. Huckett was pretending to be at least a little hip, and you could hear The Kinks playing over the speakers, so it was a good night. A few lanes down from us there was some league play going on, and sometimes I'd catch a glance of the pinball machine Johnny used to spend hours in front of, stunning all of the kids in Tulsa with his skill. He'd been darn good.

"Hey, when're you gals gonna get up and bowl?" Two-Bit asked, looking at Evie and Bridget askance. Evie scoffed.

"Girls don't bowl," she said simply, like he was stupid. In turn, Steve looked at her like _she_ was stupid.

"'Course they bowl! There's a women's league right down there!" And he pointed.

" _These_ girls don't bowl," Bridget specified. "Besides, the three of you are entertainment enough."

That was true – I wasn't much of a bowler, but at least I was out here trying. The girls, who had decided to keep score, probably just didn't want to embarrass themselves. Well, I didn't either, but at least I was rolling with the punches. That's the best you can do with these guys – you go along with the group, and you know to laugh at yourself if you screw up. If everybody's laughing, you're having a good time. (Usually.)

"I'm hungry – anyone want something?" I asked, and I ended up with a couple bucks and instructions to get whatever my heart desired. I sauntered up to the concession stand and stood back from the line a bit, inspecting the limited menu of snack foods. It was always the same sort of stuff, everywhere you went: popcorn, hot dogs, sodas, Cracker Jacks, soft pretzels with tons of salt. I went for the pretzel and a Pepsi – real adventurous.

"Hello, Ponyboy."

I knew who it was right away; I'd recognize that icy voice anywhere. This was the Angela I and everyone else was used to – standoff-ish and cold, with that hard glint in her eye. The Angela that was inviting me to parties and touching my arm and giggling was not the Angela I knew, and I didn't even know her that well, which made her act all that much more mysterious. I had no idea what sort of game she was playing, but by the look on her face, it was clear I wasn't playing it right, at least not by her rules.

"Hey, Angel," I said meekly, hoping that using her nickname like she had asked me to would soften her towards me, but it didn't seem to work.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

 _Avoiding_ her? I tried not to roll my eyes. "What are you talkin' about?"

"The party the other night! I heard you went, but I didn't see hide nor hair of you. What's the big deal, huh? Am I not good enough for you now that you got fancy new friends?" And she nodded her head towards our lane, I guess referring to Bridget as the fancy one. I stammered.

"Angela, I wasn't even there that long! And Bridget Stevens told me you're seein' some guy named Bryon Douglas," I threw back in her face, "so what's it even matter?"

What was it with pretty girls? They thought they could make you do whatever they wanted, boss you around. They thought they were so much _better_ than everybody, giggling about ugly girls and phony guys and making everyone feel rotten about themselves. I guess I should have been flattered – Angela had picked me, for whatever zany reason, and I should feel _chosen_ or whatever, and maybe I did a little at first, but that's just because she was beautiful. I couldn't care less about the rest of her. Angela did look a little shocked when I brought up Bryon, though.

"How do you know about that?"

"My fancy new friend told me," I shot back. "And I can't believe that's all you're worried about. Someone died that night, Angela. Quit tryin' to make everything about you."

I then took a defiant bite of my pretzel and stalked off, leaving Angela behind as she called my name once, sharp and loud, but I ignored her and sat back down at our lane, everybody looking at me all sideways. I'm sure there were a lot of people looking our way, or Angela's, and I hoped she was feeling at least a little embarrassed. I rolled my eyes. "What?"

"What in the hell was that all about?" Two-Bit asked.

Steve came back from his turn – seven-ten split. He swore. "You don't know?"

"What's up?"

"Angela has a crush on Ponyboy," Bridget told him, trying not to smile. Evie's jaw dropped.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding! Ponyboy, you aren't gettin' mixed up with the likes of _her,_ are you? She's bad news, kiddo."

"I know," I grumbled. "I think she's trying to ruin your life."

"Somethin' like that," Steve shrugged. "Girls'll do that."

"A-fuckin'-men," Two-Bit said, and he and Steve high-fived while Bridget and Evie just glared at them.

"Anyways," Evie continued, after Two-Bit and Steve had shown proper remorse on their faces, "Angela just likes toying with people, and not just boys. Bee and I had a run-in with her in the fall during homecoming, and let me tell you, she's out to make everyone just as miserable as she is."

"Why's she so miserable, though?" I asked.

Evie shrugged. "Just lookit her family. They're all nuts. She ain't the exception."

"Damn straight," Steve muttered. "She's just as bad as Tim and Curly."

"I think the moral of the story here is that some people like to make chaos where there isn't any." Bridget nudged me. "Now forget about her and bowl."

XXXXX

What was my life before Poptarts?

Forget hard-boiled eggs and bacon – these were my new favorite breakfast food, and Bridget had come back from the grocery store the other day with four boxes of them just for the two of us, but mostly me. I was going to have to convince Darry to get them when I got back home, because I'm pretty sure that now that I've imbibed myself on their frosted, fruit-flavored goodness, I can never go back. The first thing I did when I came out of the guest room every morning was float into the kitchen and sleepily wander into the pantry and beeline straight for the box, eating both pastries in the foil packet. Bridget and her father – who didn't even like Poptarts, which was crazy; he said there was too much sugar, and all I had to say to him was that he should try my brother's chocolate cake sometime - would watch me silently as my ass would fall into a chair at the kitchen table and happily go to town on them.

Was this how rich people lived? With unlimited Poptarts? Because if so, then I wanna be freaking loaded when I grow up. And it's all gonna be Poptart money.

"You're like an addict," Bridget said, nose scrunched up. "How good can they be?"

"You've had one – you tell me."

She rolled her eyes. "They taste like strawberry jam in frozen pastry covered in icing. They're fine, not addictive like crack-cocaine."

"Please refrain from talking about hard drugs at the breakfast table," Dr. Stevens said, not even looking up from his paper or batting an eye. Bridget sighed. She'd told me that sometimes, it felt as if she couldn't do anything right for him, and I knew exactly how she felt because of how Darry got sometimes. She had also told me that he had been a bit stressed out lately, between the upcoming term and some new book he was working on writing. I was worried that I was stressing him out, too, but Bee had shook her head.

"He loves having you around, Ponyboy. He really likes talking to you. Thinks you're some sort of kid prodigy or whatever."

I liked talking to Dr. Stevens, too, but he hadn't even been around that much lately for me to talk to. He still sometimes gave me suggestions on things to read, though, when he had a minute to think about it, and didn't even care if I read at the breakfast or dinner table. He was usually doing the same thing, and Bridget would try to make conversation, which would usually last for about a solid two minutes before we went back to reading. I felt a little bad; she was a smart girl and well-read, and not even really all that chatty, but I guess it's sort of rue what we were doing, just making her sit there in silence – well, not complete silence. Sometimes Dr. Stevens would tell us about something he'd just read, and sometimes I did the same thing, reading a line aloud, and she'd politely smile and nod her head and say that was very interesting, but she probably didn't always mean it.

I'm sure she's never bored with Two-Bit.

"You know, I like sitting around reading as much as the next person," she said one day, as the two of sat around doing…well, nothing, really. Reading. Sometimes she played the piano, which was nice. "But don't you ever get restless sitting still that long? I know I do."

I believed it. Probably why people like her and Soda were such good dancers. They got all this built-up energy, but the difference between them was that Bridget could sit still for an extended period of time uncoerced. "I don't know," I shrugged. "I guess." I looked up at her. She was sitting at the window, writing in a book, probably a diary. "What're you writing?"

"Nothing you need to know about," she said archly, eyebrow raised. "A girl's allowed to have a few secrets, you know." She closed the book and held it up, her thumb marking her place while she tapped the front cover with her index finger. "My innermost private thoughts and all – not for the eyes of pesky pubescent boys such as yourself. I wouldn't even let Two-Bit Mathews snoop around in this thing."

"Woah."

"Damn straight. Do you have one?"

"A _diary?_ " I sneered, and she rolled her eyes.

"Or a journal, smartass. I'm sure you've got a lot kicking around in that head of yours – you've surely got someplace to write them down besides English themes." I narrowed my eyes at her, and she stared right back at me. I could tell she was teasing, but if she kept going down that path, I wouldn't be so forgiving. "I guess that's a no, then. Well, I guess we're going to have to fix that, aren't we?"

XXXXX

Bridget drove us to a drugstore that sold cheap stationary supplies and told me to go nuts. I don't know if she realized how much power she had just handed over to me, but while she browsed the makeup and magazines, I took her advice and stood in the stationary aisle trying to choose between bound and spiral, wide and college-ruled, and decided to get one of each. And then I needed to get something to write with, so I found a new pack of pencils and this little handheld sharpener, which I thought was pretty neat. I couldn't wait to get back to the house and get all my pencils to that perfect point that makes them seem to write even smoother.

Looking all this over reminded me that school wasn't that far away now, which made me a little sad to think of summer ending and I might not even be in my own home when school starts, but if I get to pick out all the new school supplies I want, I suppose that's a plus.

Another plus?

Well, another plus of staying on the West side was running into Cherry Valance instead of Angela Shepard.

I felt a little tap on my shoulder, and I turned around with my arms full of supplies and gaped when I saw Cherry. I'd been expecting some middle-aged lady sales associate asking me if I needed help with something, or if I was maybe lost because I certainly didn't look like I was around here…but I was wearing a new pair of jeans and a new shirt with no holes or stains in sight thanks to the Stevens', so maybe I _did_ sort of look like I belonged here. Sorta. But no – it was Cherry, and that was much better.

"Cherry!" I exclaimed. "Hi!"

"Hi," she said, giving me a funny smile. "How are you, Ponyboy?"

I took a deep breath. "Uh. Good. You?"

"Good." She pursed her lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Um. Buying notebooks," I said sheepishly, gesturing to the bounty in my arms, and she laughed.

"For school?"

"Yeah," I lied. "You?"

"Same. I love school supply shopping, even if school's sort of a drag. The beginning of the year is always nice, and it's my last first day at Will Rogers, so."

"Me too," I said, cringing inside because I sounded so stupid talking to her. It was so _easy_ talking to her when we'd first met – why did it feel so different now? "I mean, about shopping for supplies, not about it being my last day there. I'm only a sophomore. Are you excited about being a senior?"

"Oh, yeah," she nodded. "Of course. Seniors get to have all the fun. It's like nobody cares anymore what you do as long as you don't blow up the school," she laughed. "I've been thinking about my senior prom dress ever since my freshman year."

We both laughed, but I didn't really get why it was funny. Gosh, she was sure pretty. Her hair was a little lighter in the summer, her skin a little darker, and she had the prettiest smile. It was too bad she was a senior and I was just some goofy sophomore who was, uh, there when her boyfriend was killed. If it weren't for those things, maybe she'd like me. I remembered what the guys said and Sand Springs, about how I knew all these older girls and that somehow gave me an in, made me cool, but I seriously doubted that was true.

"I can't wait to get out of there," she continued. "I'm sick of high school."

"Are you going to college?" I asked.

"I'm applying to a few places. OSU, Oklahoma, University of Tulsa, Texas A&M, Arkansas, Tulane, Georgia, Alabama, Ole Miss…." She noticed the probably stunned look on my face and laughed. "Well, that's not a few, and I'm not going to apply to _all_ of them. Those are just where I'm _thinking_ of applying. I want to get an English literature degree, I think."

"That's groovy," I said, and I wondered when I'd picked up that word.

"What's groovy?"

Cherry and I both turned to see Bridget coming up the aisle carrying a few magazines and a tube of pink lipstick. "College," Cherry said dreamily, and Bridget nodded vehemently in agreement.

"You bet it is. I can't wait to get out of here. I could go to school for free where Daddy teaches, but you couldn't pay me to go to school here. I'm applying out east."

"Where?" Cherry asked, getting all caught up in college talk. Bridget thought.

"Carnegie Mellon, Julliard, NYU, Georgetown, Brown, Pennsylvania," she rattled off. "Probably a few of those."

"You don't want to apply anywhere near here?" I asked, already feeling vaguely hurt that she thought it was so awful here that she had to get away. She shook her head.

"No, I don't think so. I mean, I'll probably _apply_ to Oklahoma just because I'd go for free and in case I don't get in anywhere, but that's just a precaution. You know?"

I nodded, but I still felt snubbed. Cherry seemed to get it perfectly, though, gushing about how she visited Georgetown once when she and her family were in Washington. And then I thought it would be so cool to see Washington DC, and how far away a place it seemed, in every way.

"Well, we'll see you, Cherry."

"See ya. It was nice talking to you, Ponyboy," she grinned, and I grinned back and waved as we left, wondering if she'd only ever want to talk to me outside of school, and never where anyone could see.

XXXXX

I woke up in the middle of the night for no other reason than it felt like there was something… _off_ in the house. I sometimes felt a little off here anyways because it wasn't my off, but I'd started to get used to the usually moans and creaks it made, and the darkness in every corner and down every hallway when night fell. There was just something in the air that woke me up, like there was some sort of change that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and my first thought was that someone had snuck into the house, and the next thought was that it _had_ to be the killer. I rolled out of bed and left the bedroom, making my way through the halls, going downstairs and finding no one there. I went back upstairs and started drifting towards the library – found nothing. Then I went towards Bridget's room and put my ear up against the door and listened.

"… _Jesus_ , sweetie, careful…."

"I _am_ being careful, you're just being a baby…."

That was Two-Bit's voice, unmistakably, and just the familiarity of hearing that made me brave enough to knock on Bridget's door and make them abruptly stop talking. Two-Bit whispered something so low I couldn't make it out, and she just shushed him as she came over and opened the door. Bridget visibly relaxed when she saw me, and I guess that's because she was expecting her father.

"Ponyboy," she breathed, letting me into her room. "Did we wake you?"

Two-Bit saw me and smirked, gave me a little wave from where he was sitting at her vanity stool, his hand wrapped around the knuckles. He looked pretty beat up, blood slowly trickling from some cut up by his hairline, a bloodied nose, black eye, split on his cheek – the one opposite the one he got scarred at the rumble, and smaller. Typical Two-Bit, getting beat up even in the middle of the week.

"Hey," I said. "Uh. Not really. I dunno, I just thought I heard somethin'. Are you okay, Two-Bit?"

"I'll be fine, long as Nurse Stevens here don't butcher me in the process."

Bridget scowled at him. "Come off it, Two-Bit," she begged. "You know the alcohol stings, don't blame me for it. You're the one that got in the fight."

"Wasn't no fight – got fuckin' jumped."

I knew Two-Bit was gearing up to tell a story, so I sat on the rug and got ready to listen. Bridget went back to gently dabbing at the cut on his head – those ones always make you bleed like a stuck pig, but it probably wasn't too bad. "Why'd you come here?" I asked before he could get started. "You know Darry would patch ya up."

"Well, that's the problem – Darry was with me when it happened."

"Officer Wells did this," Bridget said quietly, still looking around like she was expecting her father to barge in. My eyes went wide as saucers.

"Officer Wells? How come?"

So Two-Bit told us – or, probably just me because he'd probably already told Bee all about it – about how he had gone to report what we'd figured out to the police a couple days ago, and they were pretty glad to have even a bit of a lead, so they were pretty grateful to Two-Bit for bringing the pattern to their attention. That was on Sunday, so Officer Wells hadn't come back from his weekend off by that point, he got back Monday. Then he told us that he and Darry went out for a beer earlier this evening, at some joint Darry sometimes went to with the guys from work, and so they're just sitting there minding their own business, having a grand old time, and they're heading back out to hit the streets when a hand comes down on Two-Bit's shoulder, and it's Wells standing behind him. So Two-Bit thinks he's there to buddy around with them, and he says something along the lines of how ain't he glad that Two-Bit and his buddies are doing all the heavy lifting for him on this case? But Wells is pretty drunk, and he says something smart about how if Two-Bit's such a great detective then he may as well just hand the case over to him, and then he decks him! Well, Darry ain't just gonna stand around and let Wells get one over on Two-Bit, so he joins in on the fight and makes it two-on-one. Then they start drawing a crowd, but since Wells is drunk, they work him over pretty quick and get the hell out of there.

"He was off the clock," Two-Bit sighed, "but this can't be good. He's gon' sober up and be on our asses like flies on horse shit."

"You should watch your mouth, you know," Bridget said, and Two-Bit rolled his eyes. At first, I thought she said that because of me, which is just ridiculous, but then she said, "Excuse me? You're in the presence of a lady, and in her house."

"A _lady?_ " Two-Bit repeated. "Oh, sure. _Any_ ways, we start runnin', and I told Darry to head for the truck, beat it the hell out of there because the last thing y'all need is him gettin' arrested, what with you over here in the Doc's custody, and then I started for here, figgerin' it'd be the last place anybody'd come lookin' for me who didn't know any better."

"He's got some ego," Bridget shook her head as she finished bandaging Two-Bit up. "Just because he had no idea of where to go with this case. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. That is not how an officer of the law should be behaving."

"They ain't s'posed to act like our friends, neither," Two-Bit sneered. "Seems this one's the black sheep of the force."

"You think he came lookin' for you tonight?" I asked. Two-Bit shrugged. "Pretty petty of him if he did."

"Sure is," he laughed. "All's I know is, I think we might be able to crack your big brother of what else he knows about all this, law be damned. He's gettin' pretty fed up with all this bullshit."

"Me too," I whispered. And I really was, and so was the rest of the town. The sooner this was over, the better.

I walked over to the window and sat on the window seat, looking out at the summer night. The summer was winding down – school would be starting again soon enough. In some ways, it felt as if this had all just begun, and it was hard for me to believe that all this time had passed, that all these things had happened. In May, the entire summer had stretched out in front of me, endless and wanting. I took in a deep breath of the night air, the late summer air filling my lungs, and I held it in there for just a few moments longer than usual, and then let it out slow.

Funny how I didn't want this summer to end, no matter how much trouble it had brought us.

Two-Bit rambled to Bridget about how Bob Dylan had released an album in over a year, not so much as a peep since _Blonde on Blonde_ , and motorcycle wreck be damned – if everybody else was coming out with new music, why wasn't he? What was he playing at? What was his game? Had he just up and called it quits? Two-Bit didn't like the suspense, I guess.

"C'mon, everyone knows he was totally whacked out. Remember that chick we met at that club? With the crazy long brown hair who went to go see him at Royal Albert Hall? She said he was talking nonsense up there. He was spiraling. You should just be glad he's not dead."

"Yeah, I guess. Yeah, you're right. I'm glad you're not dead, too, ya know. With all this."

Bridget just didn't seem to know what to say to that.

XXXXX

 **AN: Three more chapters, kiddos.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	18. In Which Darry is Atticus Finch

**Author's Note: You know you're down the rabbit hole when you're googling nursery rhymes about murder. I swear, I'm just a writer!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

In the entire time I had known her, I'd never seen Bridget Stevens smoke a cigarette.

I guess now was as good a time as any to start.

"What did your brother say _exactly?_ "

We had both been getting ready to go to bed when the phone rang. Dr. Stevens was out on a date with the woman he was seeing – Viviane, who I'd met a time or two, and I thought she was pretty nice and she seemed to like me I thought, but she seemed to be confused by my presence – and Bridget raced downstairs to answer, and I was hot on her heels because nobody called that late without it being an emergency. Bridget looked nervous as she picked up the phone, and I remember thinking that one of the scariest things is a phone ringing in the night, the house all dark except for the light on in the kitchen where she picked up. But once she realized it wasn't about her father, she handed it over to me, and –

" _Pony!"_

"Right! Uh, Soda said that we needed to get over to the house right away. That's it, I swear. He didn't say anything else."

Bridget sighed and took another drag off the cigarette she had bummed off me, coughing as she drove and pulling a face. "God, these things are awful. What the hell am I doing with this?"

I reached out. "I can finish it – "

"No," she snapped, and took another shaky drag. "My father is going to kill me when he gets home and sees we aren't there."

I shrugged. "Maybe he won't notice. He'll probably think we're already asleep."

"Let's hope."

The summer night air blew through our hair as we navigated to my house. Summer was always so much more bearable at night, when the sun wasn't beating down on you and just…ruining everything. I wasn't sure what had Bridget so nervous, but for some reason, even for all of Sodapop's urgency, I wasn't feeling that anxious. Maybe it was because I was getting to be in my own house again, even though I hadn't been all that far away for all that long. Something just told me, something I couldn't explain, that when we got there, everyone would be okay. Something told me that this was outside of us. Or, maybe not completely outside of us. I had a good feeling about what this was about, though – and it wasn't good, that much I could figure. All I'm saying is that somehow, I knew that nothing had happened to any of my friends or family. I just… _knew_.

Bridget pulled up in front of my house, and I was hopping out before she had turned the engine off, yanking the gate open and bolting up the front walk and bounding up the porch. My being here was probably breaking some sort of Social Services rule, but I didn't care, and why would Mrs. Grayson even have to know? I just went right in, it being my own house and all, not waiting on Bee, and when I got inside, everybody was there waiting in the living room, looking half-asleep and sorta pissed off, and it took me a second to realize why. That's when I noticed Curly Shepard, leaning against the wall and looking shifty. My breath caught in my throat.

"Hey, Pony," Soda grinned when he saw me, hugging me. I hugged back, but didn't take my eyes off of Curly. "I'm glad you're here," he said shakily – still smiling, but shaky, and suddenly I was worried.

I looked at everyone more closely and realized they not only looked tired, even though this was freaking _early_ by their standards, but were all watching Curly as warily as I was. I took a deep breath. "Yeah, me too," I breathed. "What…what's goin' on?"

"Pony," Darry began, his voice measured and calm. I noticed there was a healing cut on his lip, and I wondered if that was from the fight with Officer Wells. "Sit down."

I sat down on the couch between Sodapop and Two-Bit, my eyes still not leaving Curly's. He smirked at me, and I could sense he was almost…apologetic? I didn't know. There was a soft opening and closing of the front door, and Bridget came into my living room wearing nothing but her nightgown and a pair of shoes she'd gotten from a trip to Mexico that looked like men's sandals. She no longer had her cigarette, so I guessed she'd finished it and snubbed it out. She stopped, too, when saw Curly, and I wondered what she knew about him, if they had ever met. I also realized she was the only girl here, and all because I'd made her give me a ride. But how else was I supposed to get over here? Soda had hung up too fast for me to ask! Two-Bit made eye contact with her and raised an eyebrow, and she just shrugged and leaned on the arm of the couch on Soda's side.

"What's goin' on?" I repeated. "Curly?"

I was ready for him to say he did it. I was ready for him to say he had killed all those girls. My mind had already figured that he was the killer, and that he was standing in my living room, with a girl _right there_ , and that he had done all these awful things, which was scary, but also disappointing; Curly wasn't exactly the best guy, but I had never thought him capable of killing anybody – too stupid, for one. But I guess we had all believed the same thing about Johnny, and look what he did. Sure, the situations were a lot different – Johnny had killed Bob in self-defense, after all – but I guess what I'm learning is it's best not to make assumptions about people. Though, I think assuming someone isn't a murderer is a pretty low bar to clear.

"Pony," Darry began again, "remember a couple months back, when you ran off? That night you found out – "

"That you'd all read my theme? Yeah." I was still a bit bitter about that.

Darry gave a small sigh. "Right. That night, that's right. Curly says he saw you that night."

I was lost. What did that have to do with anything? "Yeah…so?"

"It got busted after you left," Curly told me. "The party. And not for the LSD, but that sure didn't help our case. There was an apartment above us and they complained about the noise, and when the cops got there, they dragged in anybody who looked like they even _might_ wanna get high." He laughed a little. "Anyways, I got hauled in, and your buddy Officer Wells was the one who got me in the back of his car." Two-Bit smeared a hand down his face, and I realized he was looking pretty uncomfortable, but I didn't see what the big deal was – Officer Wells had arrested Curly, and Curly got hauled into the station all the time. What was the big deal? I didn't say anything, though, so Curly kept going. "Wells is a pretty big guy, so I don't fuck with him, which is a damn miracle since I was pretty fucked up myself. I'm sittin' in the back of the car, pretty out of it as he's drivin', and somethin' rolls out from under my seat – one'a those riot clubs they carry, and it's covered in blood, almost to the hilt."

"Lotta blood," Soda said quietly, and Curly nodded.

"Those things hurt like hell for sure, but ya gotta work to get it like that. I asked about it because I guess I was too out of it to know any better, and he just told me to shut the fuck up. Well, that's not so unusual, I guess, but everybody knows about the fight Wells got in with the two of you, and that got me to thinkin'."

"Curly, where is all this going?" I asked tiredly. "So you saw a bloody riot club – so what?"

Curly huffed in frustration. "I don't think you're gettin' him, kid," Steve said, and I looked over at him, brow narrowed. Steve sighed and closed his eyes. "Curly's sayin' he thinks Officer Wells is our guy."

My jaw dropped in surprise, and I quickly shut up, shaking my head. That was _ridiculous._ Ridiculous! Officer Wells was a cop. He was sort of a dick, but that didn't mean he was a murderer. None of this did. This sounded pretty superficial to me, and I wasn't ready to believe it. "That's crazy!" I told all of them, looking at each of their long faces. "You're all seriously buyin' this? That's just…that's just crazy, you guys!"

"Why would he've got in that fight with Mathews and yer brother, huh?" Curly asked hotly. "You really think he was upset cuz y'all figured on a lead and he couldn't? Nah, Pony man, he was pissed cuz you're on his trail, and Mathews was the one who told the cops."

"How do you know all this?" I asked. That was a lot of information Curly hadn't been present for. He rolled his eyes.

"Look, man – cops are stupid, but they ain't _that_ stupid. They don't just go around gettin' in fights with guys half their age and risk losin' their job cuz they're incompetent, least not any cop I ever heard of. I came over here on a hunch, knowin' your brother was involved, and they told me everything they knew. They agree with me, Ponyboy."

"But he's lead on the case!" I squawked, and Curly just nodded.

"Convenient, right?" Two-Bit asked blandly, eyeing me. "Don't ya think? Nobody'd suspect him in a million years. I sure as hell didn't."

I deflated. He looked like he was really beating himself up over this. I swallowed. "I just…I don't believe it," I whispered.

"Darry, you were on this case," Steve said, still level-headed. "I know you remember at least _some_ 'a the evidence."

"Yeah, Darry," Soda pleaded. "C'mon. Seriously, man, another girl is gonna die if you don't tell us, and I'd say murder is a worse crime than _that_. Right?"

Darry sighed, looking conflicted. He had always been such a Boy Scout, no matter how good a man he was in a fight, no matter the hoodlums he protected; he himself followed the rules down to the letter, and that had served him his whole life. This was asking a lot of him, we all got that, but I knew Darry. It took us a while to get him to crack, but we were down to the wire here. Another girl was probably going to die, and we had an idea of where and – now – maybe even who was doing it.

"The reason the riot club is important is because the autopsies all said the girls had suffered blunt force trauma to the head. Repeatedly. And all of their bodies…." His eyes flitted briefly to Bridget, but he kept going. "Well, everyone knows that…whoever's doin' this had their way with 'em before that. The guy had to be pretty big, too. Pretty crazy what you can tell about how a person died even after they're dead."

I don't think anyone was breathing. I knew I wasn't, holding my breath as Darry continued, his voice slow and thoughtful, measured in his recounting of the evidence that he had been presented with when he was on the jury. Besides what we already knew from the papers and the local news and what Darry said about the bodies and how exactly they had been killed, he told us that the guy that they had in custody did in fact know Howard Long – barely. They both frequented the same watering holes, but it turned out that lead was pretty flimsy, too. The suspect had never named Mr. Long as an accomplice, and the only evidence the cops had to accuse Mr. Long with was the body in his yard, as damning as that seemed. Howard had been released after the next murder, and it had become clear he really had no idea what was going on.

"Long's probably too soused most of the time to carry out somethin' like this," Steve whispered, then he shrugged. "He's pretty harmless."

"Then why dump the body in _his_ yard, of all people?" Bridget asked quietly, and all eyes were on her. She shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Well? It doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"You don't know Howard," Two-Bit said. "He may be a drunk, but he really is harmless."

"Maybe that's why Wells dumped the body there," Curly said. "Cuz he's a drunk. Everybody in town knows that – 'cept you, I guess," Curly nodded towards Bee. "Tim's seen him at the bars downtown before, and he may be harmless, but he's pretty handsy, 'parently."

"He's an easy target," Darry sighed. "That's all. Guy like him doin' this…it makes sense to people, but the evidence just don't add up. Hell, the case they got on the guy they hauled in and have on trial is pretty flimsy, too, ya ask me." Darry was starting to get heated, pacing a bit around the cramped living room. He shook his head. "They linked him to one of the crime scenes early on, but he ain't anywhere near as big as Wells is – said since he was some sort of junkie he could get hopped up and…get fucking…superhuman strength, or something. Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me, though."

"So the game's rigged. Fucked up from the inside out." Two-Bit shrugged. "What's new? They pinned the crime on a junkie and a drunk cuz people'd buy it. You're right – it prolly is bullshit." Two-Bit turned his gaze on Curly. "Congrats, Shepard. Looks like you just solved a murder investigation."

Curly looked grim. "I wasn't for sure 'til I heard about y'all gettin' in that fight with him, but now I'm sure. Why else would he go after you? And now that he knows you're on his trail, bet the next one won't happen where y'all're thinkin' it will."

This was all insane. Everything used to make sense – Curly was a hood, we all were, and people weren't always good to each other, but they sure weren't _killing_ each other like it seemed was the fashion now. A girl like Bridget…she shouldn't even be in my house, and Curly shouldn't be solving crimes – he wasn't that smart. Was he? He was always just Tim's idiot little brother, same as I was just Darrel and Sodapop's _sheltered_ little brother. What was the world coming to? I thought this was supposed to be a happy summer, nationwide. That's what they'd been saying, but what was all of this?

"So we follow 'im," Darry said, eyes fiery, suddenly on board with all of this. "We spread out, make sure he don't leave our sight. We go where he goes."

"One of us could hang by the station," Steve suggested. "Cops'll be 'round where we figured he'd be, so maybe we don't have to go out by the state road."

"He had me fooled the whole damn time," Two-Bit shook his head. "With the whole buddy act. _Fuck_ – wouldn't be surprised if he wants to pin the whole damn thing on _me_ now, too, for tippin' the cops off."

"He had us all fooled," Soda said, pursing his lips. "Got on our good side so we wouldn't question anything."

It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I wasn't going to believe it until I saw it, but the more I thought about it, the more it all made sense to me. All of these girls had been attacked by a large man, then hit repeatedly in the head until they died. There was the riot club, and the fight, and then I remembered the night of the party that Angela had invited me to, when I had met up with Bridget and Missy; Missy had said that the woman John Warren had come with had gone off with an older guy, and then she'd died, the same Friday night that Officer Wells was conveniently out of town for the weekend. And what the guys were saying about pinning it on guys like the junkie and Howard because they were easy targets made sense, too – it was all starting to make sense, and it was scaring me, to think we had all trusted this man, that Two-Bit had been buddy-buddy with him, and he was probably a murderer.

"John Warren," I whispered, and everybody looked at me.

"Who?" Soda asked.

"John Warren," I repeated, my voice stronger but shakier. I looked to Bridget, her face slowly dawning with recognition. "He was at the party we were at with Missy, and his date was the girl who died."

"What are you saying?" She asked quietly.

"We should talk to him," I said. "Maybe…maybe he could describe the guy. That would help our case, right?" I asked the room. "If he can give us a description that matches."

"I guess," Darry drawled. "Do you even know the guy?"

"I do," Bridget said meekly. "He's just graduated and should be in town still. I've been to his house before – he lives maybe five minutes away."

"You'd really do that?" Curly asked, sneering at her a bit. "Help us out?"

She gave him a withering look. "Why else do you think I'm here? Don't you know where Ponyboy's been staying since that night?" She asked, voice turning hard, and Curly shrunk back a bit. "We have until Friday, but we'll go tomorrow. Ponyboy – I'll meet you in the car." And then Bridget left the house just as quietly as she entered, Two-Bit springing up and following after her – " _Bee, wait."_ – leaving the rest of us inside. Curly sighed and ran both his hands through his hair.

"Thanks, Curly," Soda said, standing up and clapping him on the shoulder as he headed into the kitchen. Curly looked over at me and grinned.

"Curly?" He raised his eyebrows in response. "Is all this…is all this why you asked me 'bout what it's like seein' dead bodies?"

He didn't say anything for a minute, then he shrugged. "Guess so. I dunno. Yeah, I guess. Why, why'd you think I asked?"

I couldn't say it was because I thought he had done it, so I swallowed and shook my head. "No reason."

Curly shrugged. "'Kay, then. Y'all keep me updated on this," he said seriously as he left, and for a second, he reminded me of Tim, with his commanding air. But I knew (hoped) he'd turn around and do something stupid soon enough to cancel it out.

"You okay, Pony?" Darry asked, and I shrugged as the two of us went into the kitchen to sit at the table with Soda, who was standing at the stove making breakfast food, of all things – but it did smell good, and I was hungry all of a sudden, so I wasn't complaining. I sat down hard, though, suddenly feeling more tired than I had in a long while.

"Yeah, I guess. Why?"

"It's just a lot," Soda said. "That's all. It's pretty heavy stuff, and…well…"

"You've been pretty close to all this," Steve finished for him. "Hell, you _found_ one'a the girls. That's pretty fucked up."

"Yeah," I agreed softly.

"The sooner this ends, the sooner you can come home," Darry said confidently. "There's that, too." That sounded real nice. I smiled at Darry as Sodapop started serving up scrambled eggs and toast made the normal way, and it almost tasted as good as Poptarts. Actually, it probably tasted better.

I was dead on my feet as I walked out of the house that night. Bridget and Two-Bit were sitting in her car, talking, and I tried to make as much noise as I could so they knew I was coming and they wouldn't try any funny stuff. They both glanced over at me before turning back to each other, but there was a shift in the air, and I think they decided to change the subject when they saw me.

"That's my seat," I said to Two-Bit, and he cocked an eyebrow.

"That so? Well, then I guess I best be on my way, then. Be careful you two, yeah?" He said, looking between us. Bridget nodded.

"'Course. C'mon, Ponyboy – big day tomorrow."

XXXXX

John Warren's house was probably even nicer than Bridget's. When we pulled up in front of it, my eyes felt about ready to pop out of my head. I think I recall Bridget mentioning something about him being distantly related to Earl Warren, but I don't remember. What I _do_ remember is thinking that just when you thought the people on the West side couldn't get any more extravagant, you found someone to one-up the last.

Bridget had told me that morning that the Warrens were the real respectable type, and to dress my best, which meant I took a shower and kept my hair product-free, then I put on a white dress shirt and jeans, tucking the shirt in, which wasn't really something I liked to do – it always felt so constricting. I cleaned up pretty good, though, I thought, and I found a bottle of aftershave underneath the sink, and even though I _still_ wasn't shaving yet, I put a little on, smacking it onto my cheeks and neck. It stung a little, but I sucked it up – we were interviewing a potential witness, and we meant business. Bridget surely did, coming down the stairs looking like she was about ready to have lunch with Ladybird Johnson, and she kept checking her makeup in her mirrors, which made me raise my eyebrows.

"What?" She asked defensively. "John and his family are very respectable people – we should look our best."

"Is that it, or do you just think he's cute?" I asked, and she shot me a scornful look.

"Let's just get this over with, okay?" She snapped, and I nodded – maybe this wasn't the best time to tease her. We headed up to the front of the house, and she knocked on the door sharply three times, and I rang the doorbell for good measure – just wanted to make sure they heard us, is all. The Warren's housekeeper answered the door, and Bridget and I both smiled pleasantly at her. "Good afternoon, ma'am. We're here to see John, is he home right now?"

The housekeeper eyed us suspiciously. "Y'all ain't sellin' nothin', are ya?"

"Oh, no!" Bridget exclaimed quickly. "No, of course not – "

"Jehovah's Witnesses?"

Bridget smiled patiently. "No, ma'am. We're friends of John's, and we just wanted to stop in and see him before he goes to school in the fall, and this will probably be our last chance to do that." She shrugged. "Would that be alright?"

The woman eyed us for a moment longer, but then she gave us a tight smile and nodded. "C'mon in, then. I'll get 'im. Who should I say is here?"

Bridget and I followed her into the front parlor. "The Stevens," she said. "Thank you, Miss…oh! I don't believe I caught your name."

"Dalia."

"Miss Dalia," Bridget grinned. "Right, thank you for letting him know."

Miss Dalia left to fetch John, and Bridget and I sat down on the couch; I went to lean back against the cushions, but Bridget put a hand on my back and made me lean forward – something about how the pillows on the couch were probably decorative, which was just about the stupidest thing I had ever heard of, but rich people seem to have a knack for coming up with such useless things. We sat in a comfortable silence while we waited, but I was feeling pretty anxious, too; if the man John described matched Officer Wells, then I guess that was that.

A few minutes later, a guy about my brothers' height came into the parlor, dressed like he was about to go boating or something, in khaki shorts and a short sleeve white polo shirt. His blond hair was slicked back and held in place with a pair of sunglasses. I wondered if his family owned a yacht or something, but then I thought to myself that the lake at Sand Springs was probably too small for a yacht. Maybe. What did I know about yachts?

"Bridget," he grinned. "What brings you here?"

She stood up and hugged him, and I wondered when the two of them had become so chummy. I'd never heard of this guy, but Bridget greeted him like an old friend, holding his hands when they parted. "Well, I wanted to congratulate you, of course," she said, like it was some sort of big secret. "OSU won't know what hit 'em."

John laughed. "Yeah, yeah." He turned his head and finally seemed to notice me, brow furrowing in thought as he tried to place me, and then the inevitable flash of recognition hit him – like it did with everybody – but he was at least decent enough to try to contain his surprise at me sitting in his house on his couch with all the decorative pillows. "Nice to, uh, see you, too, Ponyboy. What brings you by?"

"He's staying with me for a little while," Bridget confided solemnly, her tone leaving no room for further questions. "And he came along because we both have a question for you. Would you sit down for a minute."

John sat down. "What's up?"

Bridget settled back down next to me and looked over at me, silently asking me if I wanted to ask since it was my idea, or if I wanted her to do it. I tilted my head towards her, and she seemed to get the idea. "It's about that party a while back," she said quietly, sympathetically. "The one where your date…" She spread her palms. John seemed to get the message and sighed.

"Right," he breathed. "What about it?"

"We were wondering if you happened to see who she went off with, what he looked like."

John shifted a little uncomfortably. "Why would you wanna know that?"

"Because we may know who did it," I suddenly blurted out. "We might know who killed her."

"Um." John stared at me, looking like he was trying to gather himself. "How…? How do you know? I thought the police didn't have any leads."

"It's complicated," Bridget vaguely explained. "Could you please just try and remember what he looked like?"

John sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, thinking. "Big guy. Dark hair, I think. Definitely a lot older than any of us." He shrugged. "That's about what I remember. I have to admit, I was kinda soused that night," he admitted sheepishly. "But he was definitely a big one. I have no idea why a guy his age was there, either. Makes perfect sense a perv like that would do…" He trailed off and shook his head. "Anyways, does that help?" John asked hopefully.

Bridget and I looked at each other. "I think so," she said. "Thank you so much, John. I know you probably don't want to think about that night."

"'S'okay. Who d'ya think did it anyways?"

"I probably shouldn't say right now. If we're right, though, it'll be in the papers soon enough," she said confidently, and John seemed to accept that. She stood, and I followed her lead. "Again, thank you so much, John."

"No problem." He showed us to the door and waved as we drove off.

"That was easier than I expected," I observed on the way home.

"John's a good guy," Bee shrugged. "Not all who have decorative pillows are such rotten people." She grinned at me. "So. What are we thinking? Did that help?"

I sighed. "I mean, I guess? The description was sorta vague, but Officer Wells fits it. I think it's enough for us to go on. I don't think it matters much, anyways. Come Friday, the guys are gonna be on his ass."

"Yeah," Bee agreed. I looked over at her, tried to figure out what she was thinking behind her guarded features.

"You're a pretty good liar, ya know."

She quickly glanced over at me and scoffed. "Yeah? You know, I'm not so sure that's such a good thing. And what did I lie about?"

"You lied twice. You said the Stevens were here to see him, and you said to Miss Dalia that we wanted to congratulate him. That's not why we were over there at all."

"And I was supposed to say that we were there to talk about a murder?" She laughed. "Yeah, right. And as far as I'm concerned, Ponyboy, you're as good as family now, and you're just going to have to deal with that."

XXXXX

Friday came much too quickly; I had been hoping for the past couple of days that it wouldn't come at all, but I guess the universe just wasn't in the mood to help us out right now, let alone me or whatever poor soul Wells was after next. I wondered to myself if he knew beforehand who he was after, or if he decided on the spot. My mind had wandered down a dark path after learning about all of this, and I couldn't get off it. No matter how hard I tried, my every thought was consumed with this case, and with stopping yet another girl from dying. No amount of reading or music could keep me from these thoughts. I think Dr. Stevens caught on that something was up with me, but he never said anything when we talked. I was still able to hold a pretty decent conversation about the books I was reading and put up a good front that kept him off our case; Bridget seemed to be much better at hiding her worry, but I knew she was just as freaked out about all of this as I was. By the time Friday rolled around, she was so nervous she wouldn't stop tugging on her hair, which I'd noticed was something she did when she was upset.

We had it all planned out. Dr. Stevens left to meet Viviane for lunch, and at one in the afternoon exactly, the kitchen phone rang. Bridget and I had been hovering, watching the clock and waiting, and I pounced on it on the first ring, answering breathlessly, asking, "Soda?"

" _Yeah. Okay, so Steve just cut out. Boss man won't be by today, so I'm clocking out for him._ " I didn't care about Steve's time card – Soda needed to get to the good stuff, fast. " _He's gonna park outside the police station. There's a payphone there. Said he was gonna head into the drugstore across the street and get lunch, do some stuff in the area so he don't look suspicious, cuz just hangin' out in his car for the next few hours would sure as hell look suspicious, we think._ "

"What's he saying?" Bridget hissed, and I held up a finger. She deflated slightly and slumped back in one of the kitchen chairs with her arms crossed over her chest, giving me The Eye.

"And Darry, he's pickin' you up when you're done with work?" I asked.

" _Yep. Hopefully Wells don't leave the station 'fore we can meet up with Steve and tail 'im. We're not sure this is gonna work, but it's better than doin' nothin'."_

"What about Two-Bit?" I asked, and Bridget leaned forward to try to catch even a bit of what Soda was saying.

 _"He's back at that bar he was at with Darry when the fight happened, askin' the barkeep some questions. After that, I think he said he was gonna stop by there, so I bet he'll be over soon."_

I put my hand to the receiver and Bridget quirked an eyebrow. "Soda says Two-Bit might be over here soon."

"Why?" She asked, eyes widening. I shrugged.

"Didn't say. But he said he'd be over here after he asks the keep at the bar some questions about the fight the other night." I said bye to Soda and hung up; the plan was set in motion. The waiting game, however, continued.

XXXXX

In hindsight, my idea to sneak into the back of Two-Bit's truck while he was distracted with Bridget probably wasn't one of my better ones. Truthfully, I don't think any of us were really in our right minds with this – I mean, we were tracking someone we suspected of murder, which was wildly and dangerously stupid to begin with, but I really upped the ante by suddenly deciding that I needed to tag along with him. Hey, maybe Darry's right and I don't have any common sense, but you've got to say something for my valor or persistence, or whatever. At least I was being stupid for an honorable reason. I mean, when Two-Bit came by that evening with the news that the bartender had been asked by Wells for Two-Bit specifically, that just added another point in the _Wells is Guilty_ column, I became decided. It's just, well, I knew asking Two-Bit to tag along would be pointless and that he'd just say no, so I just went for it. In the name of spontaneity

Riding in the truck bed was a little tricky because I had to keep low so he wouldn't see me while we drove, but my ruse lasted only as long as it took for Two-Bit to have to pull off and refill the gas tank. I don't think his discovery warranted the reaction I got – lots of swearing and he somehow knocked off his sunglasses, all that – but surprising him the way I did probably wasn't too groovy of me. I'll admit to that much.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, kid!" He spat, shaking his head in exasperation. He bent down and got his sunglasses, angrily shoved them on top of his head so he could keep his hair back and shoot daggers at me with those grey eyes while he somehow simultaneously managed to fill up his tank. "The fuck you doin' in my truck?"

"I'm coming with you," I said indignantly, getting up on my knees and leaning my arms on the side of the truck bed. "I'm part of this, too."

"The hell you are!"

I sighed, getting flustered. "I've been in the same place as three of these bodies so far. Maybe I'm just the _un_ luck you need."

Two-Bit just stared at me, eyebrow cocked and lips parted just a bit, his whole face adding up to something that said he couldn't believe me. "I can't believe you. What the _hell_ does that mean?"

"Means that maybe I _am_ some sort of jinx, but it's a good bet that wherever I am on a Friday night, a body's gonna drop."

Two-Bit swallowed. "That's pretty goddamn morbid, kid. And you're stupid as hell."

"Maybe," I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "But I'm coming. With."

I was getting a little tired of people telling me I was stupid and didn't use my head, like it was the same thing, because it's not. I know I ain't stupid – but maybe it ain't always the worst thing that I don't got any common sense. Two-Bit swore some more under his breath, some so obscure I figured he must be making them up, and some that I'm certain weren't even in English, but when he came back from paying for the gas, he snapped, "Get in front. Steve said to head downtown," and I clambered into the cab and we started driving. "Your brothers are going to kill me. I'm s'posed to be lookin' out for you when they're not around, and what the hell do I do? Jesus, how is it I keep fucking up with you?"

"I'm fifteen," I reminded him. "And I've seen bad stuff, too. John Warren's description of the guy who killed his date fits Wells, and it was me who decided to question him. I've seen dead bodies, okay? Probably more than you have!"

"You sure about that?" Two-Bit asked. "Cuz lemme see – there was the chick in the lot, the one behind the Long's house, we _all_ watched Dally get gunned down, oh – and then there was yer _parents_ , cuz Darry had me tag along to go ID your bodies. Even _you_ didn't get to see that."

I was seeing red. "Don't you talk about them," I spat. But Two-Bit kept going.

"I'll talk about whatever the fuck I want, kid. Just cuz they were _your_ parents don't mean yer the only one misses 'em – hell, your old man was a better father to me than mine ever was, who is also dead, by the way, and he still somehow managed to fuck with me from beyond the grave. Quit actin' like you're the only one who ever gets hurt, Ponyboy Curtis, or someone is going to give you your comeuppance."

Hot tears stung at the corners of my eyes, and I wanted to hit him. "Two-Bit – "

"This feels like my fault," he went on. "Don't you get that? Wells tricked me into thinkin' he was on our side, and now he's gotten away with all of this. This ends tonight, even if it means I'mma have to be the one that ends it."

I paled. "What's that mean, Two-Bit?" I mumbled, and he just kept staring at the road.

"Means that if someone's gotta die, it's gonna be him."

XXXXX

Steve's car and our family truck were lined up on a downtown street when Two-Bit and I pulled up. This wasn't the best part of town, pretty seedy, and we all had eyes on a bar across the street that didn't appear to have the best of clientele. Two-Bit got out, ordering me to stay put while he went to go check in with the rest of the guys, and I slumped back against the seat and sighed. Bridget and her father were probably worried, wondering where I was, and I wish I could tell them that they didn't need to worry about me, but I was going to have to wait for that. I had the feeling Two-Bit wasn't going to be the person to yell at me tonight.

"Steve and Soda say they saw him head in there," Two-Bit relayed as he leaned on the door, looking through my window. I glanced at the building and then back at him. I nodded.

"So when he leaves, what then?"

Two-Bit sighed. "When he leaves, Darry, Steve, and I are gonna hop in his car and go after him. You're goin' with Soda. _Home_."

I just shook my head. When the hell were they gonna stop treating me like a baby? "Great," I grumbled. "Wonderful."

"Hush. You'd rather Darry come over hear and whup yer ass? Just keep your eye on the door. Steve went 'round back to watch the back door. We need to keep alert."

I nodded. Without looking at him so I could keep watch, I said, "I know you've seen bad stuff, Two-Bit. And I know you miss my parents, too. I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine," he said shortly. I couldn't tell if Two-Bit was just mad at me right now, or mad in general.

"I'm sorry about your dad, too. Did I ever tell you that?"

He paused. "I don't know if you did. But thanks. It don't really matter."

"Yeah it does," I shrugged. "Just because you hated him don't mean it didn't affect you. I know things ain't easy for you either. It ain't easy for any of us."

"No, it ain't," he agreed. "Pony, just cuz we've all seen bad stuff don't mean we're all able to handle it."

I peeled my eyes away from the door so I could look at him. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

Two-Bit didn't look at me when he said, "Means that we ain't lookin' out for you just cuz you're the baby." I reared back, feeling both vaguely insulted and confused, but before I could ask Two-Bit what exactly he meant by that, he pushed his sunglasses up on his head and stared at the front door, staring, brow narrowed in concentration. His eyes widened. I followed his gaze. "Is that – ?"

Oh, no.

Oh, god.

It was Officer Wells and –

 _"Cynthia!"_

XXXXX

 **AN: I think I subconsciously inserted stuff about crime narratives in this chapter. I guess my media and politics class really got to me.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	19. One More for the Road

**Author's Note: And we pick up where we left off….**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

" _Cynthia!"_ I screamed.

I had only met her the once, but she was kind of hard to miss, with her huge afro and her leather jacket/sundress combo that she seemed to like. She was leaving the bar, alone, but with Wells right on her tail. Before I could give it a second thought, I was clambering across the bench seat and out the driver's side, then I made a break for the other side of the street, and I heard Two-Bit yell after me, calling my name, then he started following me, and I wondered vaguely how long it would take my brothers to come after us.

Cynthia stopped on the sidewalk, and her eyes widened when she saw me, eyes tracing me up and down as she placed me, then realization dawning. "Ponyboy, right? Hey – "

"That man," I panted.

"What man…?" She looked around.

"He means me, sweetheart."

I froze. Officer Wells stood over me, I bet trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. My heart pounded, and I couldn't understand why Cynthia wasn't freaking out like I was. "Hi, officer," I mumbled.

"Ponyboy."

"I saw you inside," Cynthia suddenly said. "I saw you look over at me a few times." It was hitting her know, but I didn't dare take my eyes off Wells, even though I was scared out of my mind that he was about to try something, afraid to confront this head on. "Yeah…yeah, were you following me?"

"Prolly, the perv."

Darry, Sodapop, Two-Bit. Me, Cynthia, Wells. Standing together in a clump on the sidewalk, my brothers and our friend looking dangerous, ready for a fight. They were always ready. Wells just held up his hands. "I wasn't doin' nothin'. And even if I were, you can't prove a damn thing." He narrowed his eyes and looked between Darry and Two-Bit. "I should haul you two in for assault of an officer."

"Ha!" Two-Bit laughed. "That's good. You'll keep all the other death row inmates in stitches with that act."

This was going nowhere fast, and all the three of them were doing was piss Wells off, and for some unfathomable reason, I wished Steve was here. It can never hurt to have an extra man, after all. "Ponyboy," Darry said lowly to me, "take her to my truck."

"No! What the hell's goin' on here?" Cynthia demanded to know. "Who _are_ you?" She asked Wells. "And why the _fuck_ were you following me?"

Officer Wells ignored her and instead said to us, "I don't know what the hell it is you think is goin' on here, but it's none of your business."

That was it for them – Darry and Two-Bit again showed him who was boss and had him pinned up against the builder faster than you could say 'Go Cowboys!' We were starting to draw attention, and a crowd had gathered around us now, nobody interfering, but all of them probably wondering just what the hell was going on. Heck, so was I. How does citizen's arrest work? Could we do that? Was this _already_ citizen's arrest? Or were Two-Bit and my brothers just going to beat him beyond recognition?

"Alright, break it up, break it up!"

Oh, _great_ , another officer. This guy was on duty, unlike his colleague here, and he looked pretty hoppin' mad, had his hand on his club and everything, and my heart started pounding faster. Cynthia looked just as nervous as I felt, her eyes watching the hand on the club closely, like she was expecting him to come out swinging any second, but then she started talking like she wasn't scared at all, and I admired her for it. It's not easy to function when you're scared.

"Officer, this man was following me," she accused, pointing a shaky finger at Wells, and I nodded, trying to be helpful the best way I knew how – keeping my mouth shut and agreeing. The officer looked at us like we were insane.

"Miss, this is an officer of the law you're accusing here."

"But it's true!" I shouted. There goes me keeping my mouth shut. God, I don't even listen to _myself_. "She said he was watching her all night, and he's the one who was with the girl who got killed that night at the party on the old state road!"

Everyone around us gasped at the accusation I'd made, and I felt like I was in some sort of crazy thriller movie. I just hoped there wasn't gonna be any high-speed chases or whatever. Even my brothers stopped to stare at me, but the second Wells made a move, Two-Bit pushed him further up against the wall, and the other officer rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him back and letting Wells up.

"Alright, Mathews, you listen here – "

"You guys follow the lead I gave ya?" He asked, scarily calm, even with his shirt gathered in the officer's fist. "Huh?"

"Well – "

"Bet they haven't seen a damn thing. Bet he's somewhere else tonight."

The officer narrowed his eyes. "The hell you sayin', boy?"

"I'm sayin' the kid's right!" He shoved a finger in Wells' direction. "He's been right under your nose the whole damn time, and we've got enough evidence to prove it. That's what made it so easy for 'im – last guy you'd suspect is the lead on the case."

The officer turned to his partner. "Wells, are you hearing this?"

Wells didn't say anything at first. "John – " This was almost embarrassing. He was a grown man about to be taken down by a bunch of kids who just happened to connect all the right dots. "You're really gonna trust Mathews and the kid who was there when Sheldon was knifed? _Winston's_ friends?"

"Hey, you shut up about him," Soda spat, looking red-hot. Darry put his hand on his shoulder and held him back, knowing we didn't need any more trouble than we already had.

"Officer, this man really was following me," Cynthia tried again. "He was inside and left right when I did, and I kept seeing him look at me. I really believe he was following me."

The other officer sighed. "Look, miss – "

He was about to say something awful, I know it, but then – as if there was really somebody up there looking out for us, maybe Dallas Winston, guardian angel of juvenile delinquents and enemy to the police – I heard the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard say,

"She's telling the truth, officer. We saw him."

Cherry Valance and some pretty blonde were standing there, but it wasn't Cherry who had said it – the blonde had. I vaguely recognized her, but I couldn't quite remember her name. One of Cherry's friends, I guessed, and I wondered what the heck they were even doing down here…right place, right time, I guess?

"And he was at that party where the woman was found dead out behind that house," she went on, looking cool as a cucumber. "I'm sure he was. We saw him. And so did John Warren, the woman's date – you can ask him."

It's like this girl knew _everything_. Where had she been when we needed help? We sure could have used hers, even if Two-Bit was staring at her like she was a ghost, and I couldn't help but hate how Cherry and I shared so many tragedies between us, that she would never think of me as just a normal guy. She stood there silently, and I wondered if maybe she was thinking the same thing; that she would come to our aid, but she didn't want to get mixed up with it anymore. I understood.

The officer was starting to look overwhelmed, and Wells was trying to keep his cool, but I could sense his composure cracking. Darry must have, too. "You'd think an innocent man might try to defend himself," he said pointedly, and of course he was right. Darry was always right. That should have been enough for the officer right there – he wasn't even denying any of it anymore. I did wonder why, but I almost didn't care. I just wanted this to be over.

I was starting to feel a little bad for this officer. He was a younger guy, couldn't have been much older than Darry, and it was obvious he didn't know what to make of all this. The blonde stepped up again and said, "Officer, I believe that man was going to hurt this girl. He's been watching her all night, and if you ask me, if he didn't have something awful in mind, he would've just approached her inside instead of lurkin' 'round the way he is."

It all happened very fast, the officer saying to Wells he think maybe he ought to go in, with no authority at all, and that's when Wells tried to run off – as if he didn't look guilty enough already – but unfortunately for him, he ran into Steve just as he was rounding the corner, and Wells may have been bigger, but Steve was (always) angrier, and he got him down flat. There was a lot of screaming, not from any of the girls, but the people crowded around us, and I looked helplessly at Cherry and her friend.

"Did you really see him at that party?" I asked, mostly to Cherry because she was the one I knew. She looked at her friend. "Bridget and I went to ask John about him, and the guy he described sounded like him."

The blonde raised her brow at Bee's name, but she went right over it. "It was him. All the same people go to these parties, and he stuck out like a sore thumb, and if John had been any more sober, he would've been able to tell you who it was right off."

"Our friend Missy saw him, too," Cherry said, looking down. We heard yelling as Wells got cuffed. "Seems a safe bet."

I'd say it was.

XXXX

We sat in silence in Darry's truck, and Cynthia and I watched as the cruiser with Wells inside pulled away. Everybody on the street had stopped their evenings to watch this all go down, and it seemed it was all finally coming to an end. At least, I hoped it was. I hoped we were right, that we had found the right guy. The more I thought about it, the more I recognized that for as sure as I felt about him being responsible for those girls' deaths, we could still be wrong. We wouldn't know until he was tried, I guess.

"It was really nice of your buddies to stick up for me," Cynthia spoke up. "I mean, I barely know Two-Bit, really, but you're all a bunch of stand-up guys. I had no idea who that man was, but he'd had his eye on me all night."

"It's nothing," I shrugged. "He's a creep. Are…are you okay?"

Cynthia smiled. "Yeah, I am, Ponyboy. Thanks for asking. You really think all those other girls were him? That he killed 'em?"

I nodded. "We think so. I don't know if you know who Curly Shepard is, or John Warren, but they've been around him enough to think he might have done it, too." Well, John didn't, exactly, but I didn't feel much like explaining right now.

"That's sick," she mumbled, shaking her head. "Hopefully we can put this behind us now."

"Yeah," I whispered. I really hoped so.

XXXXX

Darry drove us over to the station, Soda tagging along with Steve and Two-Bit following us in a kind of convoy, and when we got there, we found not only a bunch of police officers, but even a few reporters, Bridget, Dr. Stevens, and Mrs. Grayson. Oh, no – I had almost forgotten. Bridget and her father had no idea where I'd disappeared to, I realized as my heart sank into my stomach, and were probably worried and had called our social worker. Oh, _no_. I'd really screwed things up. I looked over at Darry, who looked all tensed up.

"Darry…." I began, but he cut me off.

"I know. Just take a deep breath, Ponyboy, and keep calm. There's gonna be a lot of questions, and I need you to relax, okay? We need to be calm."

Calm. Okay, calm. I could be calm. I took that deep breath and let it out slow, telling myself over and over to be calm. I could do this.

I couldn't do this.

There were too many people, and as we approached the station, I got the sense that everyone there was going to do everything in their power to keep me from ever going home. Not to make this about me or anything, but that's just what it felt like. I felt like all eyes were on us as we approached the building. Two-Bit, Steve, and Soda had joined up with me, Darry, and Cynthia, and while I'm sure Cynthia just wanted to make sure Wells had made it there in custody, I think the rest of us had other things on our mind. But the first thing Bridget said when she saw us, confusion written all over her face and laced in her voice, was,

"He confessed."

XXXXX

While the officers got swamped with questions, I found myself face to face with Mrs. Grayson, stood between Darry and Dr. Stevens, wanting desperately to scream at her that I just wanted to go home. I'd prefer my real home, but anywhere would do.

"This situation is a mess," she sighed, and we all nodded. My friends and Sodapop were hanging around the periphery, Bee and Cynthia whispering to each other and looking back and forth between us and the police. Cynthia had given her statement to the police, but since Wells had confessed it almost didn't matter besides making sure everyone had the full story. No one could figure out why exactly he'd confessed, just buckled under the pressure, but all the reporters were sure excited to have something to write about. "I'm glad Mr. Stevens called."

Dr. Stevens looked a bit embarrassed; Darry looked a bit mad. I had a bad feeling about where all of this was going.

"Darrel," Mrs. Grayson continued in that saccharine tone of voice of hers, "I know what I said earlier about this arrangement, and I realize the perpetrator is now going to be behind bars, but I'm still worried."

"About _what?_ " Darry asked, barely masking the pain and confusion in his voice. "Look, it's not like our neighborhood is any more or less safe than before – "

"That's…" She put a finger to her mouth. "That's not quite what's concerning me anymore. Ponyboy's something of a…runner."

"Oh, yeah – kid's great in the mile," Two-Bit piped up from his spot on the bench, and now I knew they were all eavesdropping, and Soda groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"He disobeyed," Mrs. Grayson insisted, ignoring him.

"I never told him he couldn't leave the house," Dr. Stevens said pointedly. "He's fifteen years old and does a good job of looking after himself. He's trustworthy."

Maybe in his eyes I was, but I had been a guest in their house, and Darry had told me to be good – Mrs. Grayson was right. Darry had told me to be good, and I had disobeyed. I ran into trouble again, didn't listen to Two-Bit to stay behind and let them take care of it. My eyes filled with tears and I garbled, "She's right."

Nobody said anything for a minute, and I just felt real awkward. "It's not that none of you _care_ , Darrel, it's never been about that," Mrs. Grayson said kindly. "It's just that he's so often in harm's way. He came face-to-face with a killer tonight! What is the state _supposed_ to think, knowing all the trouble he's gotten himself into not just this summer, but the past year and a half alone? I don't think it _would_ be such a bad thing if he stayed where he is now. He needs a positive male role model, and a feminine presence, and he isn't getting that at home right now, no matter how much…." She trailed up and waved a helpless hand, and I looked over at my other brother and our friends and wished this could all just be over. You'd think it would be, with Wells' confession, but it wasn't. Why am I always a problem?

"Mrs. Grayson, I'd like to speak to Darrel for a moment."

Darry was clearly shell-shocked. When Mrs. Grayson allowed it, Dr. Stevens grabbed him by the shoulder and led him off a bit, far enough away that we couldn't hear what they were saying in such low tones. Darry was tense at first, but slowly started to relax. Dr. Stevens was a reasonable man; I just hoped he wasn't reasoning his way into permanent custody, no matter how much I liked him and his daughter and their big fancy house. After a few minutes, Darry nodded, and I was holding my breath. Sodapop sprung out of his seat, looking about ready to pull his hair out. Dr. Stevens put his hands in his pockets and nodded at my oldest brother, who nodded back very diplomatically, then turned to our social worker.

"Maybe we could make an arrangement."

XXXXX

"Why would he confess?"

Dr. Stevens looked very tired as he leaned his elbow on the kitchen table. Adults are always so tired; I feel sorry for them. "Some people are very sick individuals," he explained. "You might as well ask why he did all of this in the first place, but I don't know if any of the officers or detectives will care as much about that as they will just the fact that he's admitted to doing it. We might learn something from the papers. My best guess is that you and your friends got him cornered when you figured out the pattern of the killings. It's horrific to think that someone you should have been able to trust turned out to be the least moral of them all."

I mulled that over for a moment. Bridget was puttering around in the kitchen, said she needed to have something to do with her hands after tonight – all that nervous energy, or something – and she'd decided the thing to do at this ungodly hour was bake cookies. The kitchen smelled great, though. "The officer who arrested him wouldn't believe Cynthia at first," I whispered, wondering why that was. "It wasn't until the other girls came and confirmed it that he believed her."

"That man was a colleague," he said reasonably. "It would be a hard thing to swallow, learning that someone you worked so closely with could be responsible for all those horrible things."

"Maybe," Bridget called over her shoulder as she pulled another sheet of cookies from the over, "or maybe it's because she's black," she added bitterly. "Cynthia explained to us on our trip about how untrustworthy they are, how the cops never believe them. You should hear some of her stories. I'm starting to think maybe she's right about all of it."

Dr. Stevens pursed his lips, like maybe he'd heard all of this from her before, but he didn't get into it with her tonight, did rise to her bait. "Regardless of the reason, it was wrong of him not to listen to her." Bridget mumbled something, but I couldn't hear it.

You're probably thinking that since I'm back at the Stevens house that whatever arrangement Darry and Dr. Stevens had tried to negotiate had failed. What had happened was, Dr. Stevens had suggested to Darry that a way to make everyone happy – for me to go home for good and for me to also get the "positive male role model and feminine presence" I apparently so desperately needed – was that I could go home like Mrs. Grayson had promised I could once this mess was over, but that I would promise to still spend some time here at their house, reading their books and talking to Dr. Stevens and letting Bridget make me sandwiches. It sounded like something I'd be inclined to do anyways, now that I knew them real well. The little egg timer on the counter went off, and Bee traded out one sheet of cookies for another. She was well and truly a machine, and if this is what Mrs. Grayson meant by feminine presence – an endless stream of baked goods once a week – then maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

The state was going to be notified about the arrangement. If I wanted to stay in my so-called crappy neighborhood, then I had to pretend once a week that I belonged here in theirs. And ya know what? Maybe I do.

"I'm just glad there's an end in sight," Bee said, setting a plate down in the middle of the table and glasses of milk by each of our elbows. Then she finally sat down, staring at the table, and sighed. Her father watched her closely.

"It's over, as far as I'm concerned," I said.

"And you get to go home tomorrow," Dr. Stevens added kindly, looking genuinely happy about it. He knew the score. He knew where I needed to be. And I was more than grateful to him.

"Heck yeah I do," I grinned, and Dr. Stevens fondly shook his head while Bridget laughed at me.

"But you've always got one here," she reminded me. "If that woman ever tries to take you from your family ever again, she's gonna have to go through the two of us." And she looked at her father, and they smiled at each other.

The two of them were a lot like me and Darry, I realized. Yeah, Darry's just my brother, not my father, but he's the one raising me. And Bridget, her father must have been going crazy when she and Two-Bit ran off, the same way Darry did whenever I get the notion to set off by myself. And I'm not like Darry, and Bee's not like her dad, but that doesn't mean they don't love each other, don't care; same goes for me with Darry.

"I can't wait to see them tomorrow," I admitted, dunking my cookie in the milk, watching as the warm chocolate sort of oozed into it, "but it makes me feel good to know you guys are here. Uh. For me."

They both softened. "Yeah," Dr. Stevens sighed, sounding a bit like a normal guy for once. "We are."

XXXXX

 **AN: I took forever. I suck. I know.**

 **Thanks for sticking with me; I'd love to hear what you guys are thinking as we go into the last chapter!**

 **So – who's the blonde? ;)**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	20. It Ends as It Begins

**Author's Note: Here it is – the final chapter (finally).**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Home in time for the first day of school!"

I rolled my eyes, and Bridget just laughed. School was one of the furthest things from my mind right now, but here Bee was thinking she was just the funniest person on the planet. She had boxed up the things I'd acquired while staying with her for me – the notebooks and pencils, my copy of _Catch-22_ with Dr. Stevens' translation of the inscription, and the clothes we'd bought in a mad dash the first day I'd stayed there because I hadn't brought any from home. Dr. Stevens had included a copy of _As You Like It_ with the inscription, " _Whenever you feel you're in danger, look for your Forests of Arden – you've already found one here, and there will be (and are) many more_." And Bridget had snuck in a box of PopTarts, which were strictly mine and mine alone.

I'd missed the old neighborhood, even though I hadn't gone very far away, or for very long, and had seen everybody plenty of times in-between. But now I got to sleep in my own bed again, stare at my own ceiling, watch my own TV, eat my own food. You never realize how important something is to you until it's gone, and I've never missed home so much than when I've been away. A breeze kicked up and rustled the leaves in the trees, and the sun shone down on us, and the sky was blue, and everything was the same, and nothing was.

"Woohoo," I deadpanned. "Just in time for Darry to get his nagging in."

"Oh, he was always going to find a way. Be grateful for it." She handed me the box from the backseat and nudged me forward. "Go home, Ponyboy."

I started to walk, but then I stopped and turned around. She raised an eyebrow at me. There were a million thoughts running through my mind, countless things I wanted to say after everything, but all I could manage was, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." We were quiet for a moment, and then she sighed and tried a smile. "Nothing's changed in there, I promise you."

It was like she had read my mind. My friends were good at that, it seemed, and the thought briefly struck me that I was luckier for it. "Everything has," I mumbled. "Everything's always changing."

She looked saddened by that. I guess I felt sad about it, too, but it didn't feel right to see her looking like that. I know she had been through a lot this summer, too, all the ups and downs, just like me, but it still felt wrong. "Of course it is. Things change. But I get it's hard, especially when all those changes feel so catastrophic. I get it, I do. But you have so many people in your corner! We're all here for you, Ponyboy, and one day, things will settle." She shrugged happily, and it was like the fleeting sadness had been just that – fleeting, like it had never even happened or mattered. "They have to, don't they?"

I hoped so. I just smiled back. "I guess they do. See you around, Bee."

XXXXX

Darry couldn't stop staring at me. I was just trying to eat my dinner and there he was, never taking his eyes off me, neglecting his own food, which was just plain strange. Sodapop was doing a better job of getting back into the swing of normal, for my sake probably, which I appreciated. He hugged me tight when I'd come through the front door, smiled at me, clapped my shoulder, and that was that. Soda was so rarely a man of few words, but it seems they had escaped him today.

"Darry, when're ya gonna stop starin' at me?" I grumbled, and he sighed as he pushed peas around his plate and into his potatoes.

"I just fucked up so bad," he said sorrowfully. I wondered why in the heck he was still so upset. "The past year – more – has just been a wash. Feels like nothin's going right."

Sodapop finally stopped eating and set down his fork, staring at Darry. "Darry, that's not true," he said forcefully, more forcefully than he usually spoke, and I recognized a bit of anger in his voice. "That just ain't true at _all_."

"A lot of these things were my fault," I tried, but Sodapop held up a hand, and I got the message that he was running the show right now.

"No," he said firmly. "Don't you go doin' that, either. Look, guys, we're doin' our best. Darry, we really are, and that means you, too. I'm sick of feelin' sorry for ourselves, is all. Yeah, we've been dealt some pretty shitty hands, I'll be the first to admit to that, and it don't feel any good. But that don't mean we're fuck-ups. It don't mean we haven't done the best we can with what we got. Wrong place, wrong time. And Mrs. Grayson moved Pony because she can't see any of that. I don't care how nice she is, she don't get that life happens to anybody and that it don't matter where ya live."

Then he stabbed at his chicken and started cutting at it furiously. Darry watched him and took a deep breath. "I know you're right," he mumbled. "But it's hard not to feel that way."

Soda softened. "I know," he said sympathetically. "We just gotta try to move on."

This was such a role reversal. Yes, Soda was our glue, our unfortunate middleman, but the odd thing here was how defeated Darry was. He never let us see that, any of us. It was one of those things he kept inside. Sodapop laid everything out on the table, and was one of the only people who could get Darry to do so, but that didn't make it any less strange when Darry talked like this.

Darry nodded, then looked back up at me. "I guess I just wish we coulda be there more for you this summer."

When he said that, I felt something loosen in my chest, and it wasn't bitterness or anger that they couldn't have been, it wasn't sadness for all the things I'd seen. It took me a second to pinpoint what exactly it was that I was feeling, but I slowly came to realize that it was gratitude and the deepest love for both of my brothers. I knew they loved me back. And I wasn't grateful just for them, either, but for everyone, every person in my life. Steve, for saving me from that party at the beginning of the summer. Two-Bit, for being a steadfast friend. Cynthia, for thinking of me even though she barely knew me. Bridget, for little things like notebooks and sharp pencils and PopTarts. Evie, for always including me. Howard Long, for letting me spend time with his dog, and his wife for trusting me to watch him. Cherry, for noticing me. Dr. Stevens, for reading with me. Mrs. Locklear, for telling me I should try my hand at writing someday without knowing I already had. Curly, for coming forward. Even Angela, in a strange way, for showing me which girls were worth my time. Evan and his friends, for including me in their circle. And yes, even Mrs. Grayson, because without her taking me away from my family, I wouldn't have been able to see that my family extended all over this town, and wasn't getting smaller – it was getting _bigger_.

"It's okay," I said, grinning a bit. "Really, guys. I wasn't alone."

I didn't know if they believed me, but they seemed glad to hear that.

After dinner, I wandered out back, emptyhanded. At first, I had started back for my room to grab my gifted copy of _As You Like It_ so I could hop up in my tree and read, but the mood wasn't really striking me. What I did find out there was my kiddie pool, sitting lonely and (hopefully) unused these past weeks. So I grabbed a hose and filled that thing right up, stripped down to my cutoffs, and plopped right down and watched the sky and welcomed the sweet late-summer heat. I've never been very good of just letting go and relaxing, but hey – as The Byrds say, to everything there is a season, and it's a season of change. It always is. And maybe Bridget is right – maybe someday, things will settle, but I doubt it's going to be anytime soon. I guess the only thing to do is to just…strap in. Change isn't happening only to me, after all. I'm not alone in this.

"Hey, kid."

I rolled my head to the side to see Steve and Two-Bit coming my way as they cut through everyone's backyards, looking pretty relaxed themselves. Shades on, shoes off (questionable practice in this neighborhood, but if they hadn't learned their lesson by now, they never would), and provided some nice shade as they stood over me. Looks like Steve had finally caved and was wearing some of that tie-dye Two-Bit had sent.

"Nice digs," I grinned up at him, and Steve scowled.

"I need to do laundry. It was clean."

"Shut up, you love it," Two-Bit grinned, looking smug, and he just laughed when Steve popped him in the shoulder. "So what's up, Ponykid?"

"Not much," I shrugged. "I'm not ready for school to start."

"You? Mr. Model Student?" Steve asked. "Color me shocked. How come?"

"I feel like I'm just not ready. There's been too much going on. I need everything to just calm down a bit before we go back."

"Hate to break it to ya kid, but I don't think that's gonna happen."

"What's not gonna happen?"

Sodapop came up from behind me and shook each of their hands, and I figured they'd probably always do that. That _we_ would. You hold onto the little things, I guess. "Nothin'," I said before either of them could respond, not really wanting to talk about it anymore. "You guys headin' out or something?"

Steve and Two-Bit grinned at each other, and Steve asked, "Your other brother around?"

XXXXX

"Holy shit."

"Holy shit is right," Two-Bit said proudly, leaning up against the beast of a car sitting in front of our house, a Chevy Impala, all black. He was beaming ear to ear, and so was Steve, probably just because he got to be in its presence. Soda just shook his head.

"This is yours?" He asked, and Two-Bit nodded. " _How?"_

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Darry said quickly. "Yes, it does. I've dealt with the cops enough for one lifetime, thanks so much, and so have you, and so have the rest of us. So how'd you get it? This thing is brand new."

"This thing is _mint_ ," Two-Bit corrected. "Steve, care to explain?"

"Gladly," Steve grinned, and he went on to tell us that Cynthia had come calling by the DX the other day, and was completely surprised to find Steve behind the counter. Two-Bit had been hanging around keeping Steve company, and apparently Cynthia kept thanking them over and over for helping her out, that she literally owed us her life or something, and that there was no way she could thank us enough. They both said there was no need for her to pay us back – which I was glad for, because there really wasn't – but Two-Bit, like he always did, made a crack about how unless she had a new set of wheels to replace his, he was good. Well, just so happens, her old man owned a used car dealership on their side of town, and Cynthia said her family was just as grateful as she was, so she was going to " _see what she could do_." A couple days later, she shows back up, tells the two of them to bring by Two-Bit's old truck.

"Her old man let me trade that piece of shit in for this beaut' here. She's already been owned before, so she's got some mileage, and that's what helped drive the cost down some, but hey!" Two-Bit spread his arms and grinned. "Pretty sweet, right? And all we had to do was save a girl's life!"

"I'll say," Soda breathed, running his hand reverently over the black and chrome exterior. There were still a few questions, like where Two-Bit had gotten the rest of the money, but he was a widely-known and pretty good gambler, so I'm sure the answer lay in there somewhere. Might as well push it later. "We're a regular bunch of heroes. But, hey, where's our reward?"

"Your reward is me even letting you ride in this thing."

"How 'bout now, then?" Darry asked, and all four of us looked up at him in surprise. He looked pretty pleased with himself.

"You gonna tag along, Superman?" Steve asked after a moment.

"Hell yeah, I am," Darry said, almost defiantly, as if daring any of us to say no, as if daring the entire universe to try and stop him. "And I fuckin' call shotgun!"

He dashed down the front walk, Two-Bit hopping into the front seat, Darry beside him, and me, Soda, and Steve in the back, me in the middle of them. Soda leaned over the bench seat and turned on the radio way up loud so we could scream along to the Rolling Stones, making sure we could be heard over the wind coming through all four of the opened windows. Two-Bit drove us outside of town, down old rural roads that we all knew well from summers previous. The Arkansas River wound besides us, and I could hear the rushing water mingling with the radio as we all stopped 'singing' and turned to talk or, in my case, just got quiet. I noticed every little thing around me, down to the leather sticking to my damp legs still wearing my damp cutoffs, to the way you could just see Steve's tattoo peeking out from under his tie-dye, and how Soda's voice kept getting faster as he spoke and got more excited, and how Darry and Two-Bit were passing a disgusting dip cup back and forth. Again, I was overcome with that hard-to-pinpoint feeling; it washed over me and made me feel instantly calm. It was that overwhelming sense of love again. I'd never really thought of my friends in those terms, but it was true. That was the word for it, and nothing else.

It was love.

"I love you guys," I whispered to myself, too embarrassed right now to say it out loud and make things weird. But I wanted it out there in the world. Nobody heard me, and that's how I wanted it right now. I'd said them, and I knew it was true, and I figured they all did, too, even if none of us was ready to saying it outright like that.

Darry had been wrong about everything the past year and a half being a wash. Yeah, a lot of bad had happened, the worst kinds of bad. Here we were, though, the ones who had made it through, and we were stronger for it. We were still here. And that's about all you can ask for, right?

Maybe this really had been the Summer of Love after all.

XXXXX

Things were different when school started that fall.

Everyone was different – it was just in the air. It was something you could exactly pinpoint, either, just a lot of little things. It was that Two-Bit and Steve and Evie and Bridget were all seniors, and this was their last year here, and then I'd be left alone. It was Two-Bit and Bridget – who couldn't have been further apart a year ago – standing side-by-side in the hallway, Two-Bit with his long hair and jacket covered in patches and pins, Bridget in her short paisley dresses and fringe vests. It was Evie trading in her updo so she could straighten it, her hair so long it went past her waist. It was Steve, who came up to me on his own volition and told me (a bit grudgingly) he liked _Sgt. Pepper's_ a lot better on the second take. Mr. Syme always waved to me when he saw me, and I always smiled and said 'hey' back, but he wasn't my teacher anymore, which left a funny feeling in me. Geometry was easier to me than algebra, but chemistry was harder than biology. I missed having art class with Bridget, who had switched to choir. I missed Johnny, even though it had been a very long time since he'd walked these halls. My locker was next to a girl named Cathy, who I was told had a little brother at the junior high called M&M.

"He's one of those hippie-dippy types," Two-Bit told me, and I had to laugh. "What?"

I took in his indignantly cocked eyebrow paired with the fringe jacket and had to laugh at the old meeting the new. "Hate to break it to ya, man, but so are you."

Two-Bit worked his jaw, looking for something to say to that, but he had to concede.

I know I made it sound like all my friends were going to leave me behind for bigger and better things – and in a way they were – but they weren't leaving _me_ , I slowly came to realize, and I also found that I had plenty of my own friends. I had Evan and Red and John, and we quickly became tight. More often than not, I was seen hanging around with the three of them. Darry and Soda promised me this was a good thing – the rest of them weren't going anywhere, and you could never have too many friends, is what Soda said.

"We can be each other's wingmen," Red said one day at lunch. That was another thing – I hadn't eaten in the cafeteria in a long time, and didn't _that_ feel strange. I'd sometimes catch the eye of maybe Marcia or Cherry over at Bridget's table, or maybe Missy Redar's, and instead of ignoring me or reacting in disgust, they might smile or wave – even Cherry. Randy Adderson, even, with his crew of bell-bottomed jocks, would give me a nod. Word was getting around that Randy was getting pretty hardcore with this hippie stuff, though, and I wondered how the football coach felt about _that_.

"Curtis – you needa talk to your older lady friends and get them to hook us up. The dance is comin' up, and none of us got any dates!"

I scoffed at John and dipped my fries into my ketchup again, absolutely drenching them. School food wasn't exactly always the greatest – usually flavorless, and lukewarm at best. "I don't think so. None of their bigshot senior friends would go with us."

Evan shrugged. "What about Mark, then? Or Terry? They know tons of girls."

"Why do I gotta talk to 'em?" I asked. "You know 'em, too, and it's not like I even know them all that well." Mark and Terry were cool enough, and Mark was the one who taught me how to hotwire a car because Steve had outright refused because he was sure Darry would kill him if he did. Then Terry was just one of those wild guys that everybody knows. I knew them because they lived on my side of town. I'd heard Mark was friends with that Bryon guy Angela had been dating, but they weren't even together anymore, which made me nervous for some reason.

"They like you better," Evan said. "They think we're a bunch of pussies or somethin'."

"We are," John agreed solemnly. "That's why we can't get our own dates."

I looked over at Cherry. She was laughing at something one of her friends had said. Summer had lightened up her bright red hair a bit, but it still made her stand out. She'd never go for a guy like me, and none of her friends would want us, either. Maybe not because we were low-class, but we were just too young for them. Bridget treated me like her kid brother, which was annoying because I got that from _everybody_ , and even more annoying when it was coming from a girl.

"Hey, it's not like it's the senior prom. We can just go together and pick up girls there," I shrugged. "It's easy."

Red scoffed. "Fuckin' doubt it. Guess if all else fails we can go to Crutchfield and get high."

XXXXX

Red was right – it wasn't as easy as I said it was going to be. But when is it ever? And when am I ever right about that sort of thing anyways?

"Think Bryon's gonna be mad about the car?"

I shrugged. I wasn't exactly looking forward to going back to the hospital. Too much of my life had already been spent in hospitals. I hoped Mark was okay, and that I could make him proud by my hotwiring skills. "I dunno. Don't really care. He don't like me anyways, apparently."

"He doesn't?"

"That's what Mark told me. Anyhows, I'm more worried about what my other friends will think for ditching them."

Cathy laughed lightly. "I'm sure they'll understand once you explain what happened. You didn't exactly come out unscathed yourself." I jerked to a stop when the light turned. "Say, have you ever driven a car before?"

I felt myself turn a bit red. " _Yes_ ," I said testily. "I'm just…a beginner."

Cathy laughed again. "Well, alright, then. It's not like I'm some sort of expert. Just asking. How is your head, anyways?"

"It's fine." This girl sure did ask a lot of questions. Bryon was really lucky – Cathy was a pretty girl, and nice, too, and a not small part of me was jealous and wishing I'd gotten to know her better first. After all, our lockers were right next to each other. "Angela's trouble."

"So I've heard."

"I mean it – she was after me all summer, and the last time I went to the same party as her, a body dropped." Cathy paled, and I rushed to correct myself. "Mark's gonna be fine!" I promised. "And she didn't do it, you know that. All I mean is…she's trouble. All of the girls I know say so."

"But I thought you said you didn't know her. At least, that's what _Bryon_ said. He said you ignored her."

"I did," I said sheepishly. "Ignore her, that is. And I don't really know her, so it's not a lie. She's the one interested in me, not the other way around. And now she's out for my head."

I pulled into the hospital lot and parked the car with a jerk, and Cathy let out an _oomph_. "What a night, huh?"

I chuckled. "You could say that. Sorry we had to meet like this – but if there's anything you should know about me, it's that even if _I'm_ not trouble, it sure does follow me."

Cathy grinned. She had quite the smile. I bet she was the type of girl who looked real good in yellow.

XXXXX

Some things changed, but some things stayed the same. One of those things was Saturdays. I had a whole routine for Saturdays now. I'd sleep in a while, then wake up to find my brothers – biological and otherwise – winding their way through the kitchen and the living room, watching Saturday cartoons like a bunch of big kids and making breakfast, and all of them shouting my name in greeting. This was what home was – it cool morning air coming through the cracked windows and mingling with the sound of popping bacon fat and all of their voices husky with their honey-sweet Okie drawls. After breakfast, I'd go every other Saturday to the newly renovated and reopened library to see Mrs. Locklear and either return or renew my books and find some new ones. After that, I might even stop by Mrs. Martin's beauty parlor to see Evie mostly, but Mrs. Martin was always nice to me, probably because she remembered my mother. Evie was surprised the first time I came, but I was coming to realize that in her own way, she was as much a part of my family as anyone else, and I should get to know her better, so we'd talk while she did old ladies' nails. Some Saturdays, I'd head over to Red's or John's or Evan's, and the four of us would laze around the way you're supposed to on a Saturday.

The one thing I always did every Saturday without fail was catch a ride to the West side and find my way to that old white plantation house and walk up that old brick walk and knock on the Stevens' door. Sometimes Bridget opened it, sometimes her father, sometimes Viviane, who Dr. Stevens was thinking of marrying, Bridget confided in me. Dr. Stevens had been serious about keeping his invitation open to me, that I was welcome to their house whenever, and that library in particular. The Saturday after the dance where Angela literally tried to have me killed or maimed or whatever, I had all three of them poking at me.

"I told you Angela Shepard was trouble and to just stay away from her," Bee shook her head.

"You ain't the only one," I groused. "And I tried! She's the one who can't stay away from me!"

All three of them laughed, and I felt like a little kid because I wasn't quite sure why they were laughing to begin with.

"Reading anything good in school?"

I shrugged. "It's English literature. Like, as in England. We're gonna read _Macbeth_ and stuff like that."

Dr. Stevens nodded and leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. I liked hanging out in his study. I can't quite tell you when or why I'd started hanging out in there, but I wasn't just conined to the library anymore. For a history professor, he sure knew a lot about books, but that was because, as he told me, everything is history – books, music, science, everything. Literally everything. I liked thinking about that, how the parts made the whole, and that it was important to at least know the broad strokes.

"You should read _The Once and Future King_. It's about King Arthur and his knights. _Camelot_ is based on its stories."

"It is?" I asked, and I remembered Two-Bit bringing it by for me over the summer, Bridget saying to pass along the message that it was something I needed to hear. Her and her father were probably more alike than they thought – they were trying to get me into the same thing, just in their own different ways. "I didn't know that."

"You know _Camelot?_ "

I grinned. "Your daughter gave me an extra copy of the record."

Dr. Stevens raised his eyebrows and looked like he wanted to smile. Seems he'd come to same conclusion that I had. "I see. Well, I have a copy of it if you'd like to borrow it. Here."

He stood up and went over to the bookshelf and immediately honed in on it and produced his copy. I happily accepted it and started to flip through the pages. " _We cannot build the future by avenging the past."_ I liked that. I wondered if Mrs. Locklear had read it. If she had, I wondered what she thought of it. I caught on the front cover, where there was written:

" _The biggest of congrats to you on the new position! Remember, Thom – only fools want to be great. Guess you'll make the biggest fool of all. (Said as a friend, of course.) – GD"_

Wait – GD? Wasn't that…. "Who's GD?" I asked.

"Gregory Daniels. Old friend from New York. We flew together in the war. He, uh, knew Bridget's mother. He was in our wedding."

Huh. What a small world. Dr. Stevens hardly said a thing about his ex-wife, and neither did Bee, and I knew there was good reason for that. Bridget said that even though he'd met Vivi, there would always be that part of him that loved her mother, would never be able to let go. It's funny how these things happen, you know? You go to an open house with your buddy at the beginning of the summer, and he steals a book for you that's from a guy that flew in the war with your girlfriend's dad, and the guy who was gifted the book probably knew her dad, too. And they had probably all known her mother. Then there we'd been, swiping it from his open house.

"Oh," I whispered. "Uh. Dr. Stevens? I. I think I might, uh…I think my copy of _Catch-22…_ I think it's the same GD. His inscription was all about flying in the war with that guy, and…and, well, we took it from an open house here. Two-Bit did, that is," I added quickly. "It wasn't my idea."

Dr. Stevens just smiled. I had been ready for him to lecture me, but it didn't look like that was gonna happen. "I know," he said, and my eyes widened. "I know Greg. We've known each other a long time. We've written each other too many times for me to not know his handwriting."

"Why didn't you just tell me that?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"Well, I wanted to know what the Morse Code said, too. I was curious as to how you'd gotten it – and now I know – but talking about him usually leads to talk of Lillian, and Bridget hates that. You and I aren't the best of conversationalists anyway, so I thought I'd at least spare her that."

Oh. "Lillian, she was your wife?"

"She was."

I looked back down at the book, back at what Gregory Daniels had written. "What do you think it means?"

"Oh, well the bit about fools and greatness is from the book – "

"No," I shook my head. "I mean, that I found that other book from him, and that I know you, and you're his friend. Doesn't that have to mean something, like, in the grand scheme?"

Dr. Stevens just laughed. "You'll drive yourself crazy thinking like that. If you go looking for meaning in every little thing, you'll come up empty. I like to think of it as just a happy coincidence," he grinned, and he patted my shoulder. It had been a long time since I'd felt one of those fatherly pats. I swallowed roughly. "Now – promise me something."

"Anything, sir."

"You tell that kid who call's himself my daughter's boyfriend to stop stealing books, even if they're for someone like you who's going to love them. Got it?" At first, I thought he was mad, but then he winked, and I grinned.

"I promise."

XXXXX

I can't tell you exactly why, but I was lying in bed one night, staring at my own ceiling, thinking. I couldn't sleep. The last dregs of summer still lingered in the air coming through my cracked window, but an Oklahoma autumn was on its way, sure as the sun; you could tell by that slight nip in the air. What had me so restless I couldn't tell you, but the one thing I kept thinking about was that I thought I heard something. Not even really like a sound, but almost like something was calling out to me.

I listened.

My feet were leading me. I don't think I was even really conscious of what was going on, but as I made my way to outside and to the shed, I started to figure it out. When I grabbed the shovel, I knew for sure. I still remembered exactly where Two-Bit and I had buried it, and I started to dig. It didn't take long – wasn't like I was digging up a grave, but I also sort of was. It just wasn't six feet down, and what I had buried was really more a piece of myself than anything else. When the shovel hit the cardboard box, I sleepily threw it aside and pulled it out of the earth. I was amazed it had held up down there for so long, looking just as it had, and I took that as a good sign. I wiped the dirt from the lid and pushed open the flaps.

There it was.

Some dirt had gotten in, but it was still there. All three notebooks. The last one still had the note from Mr. Syme in it, telling me he was there if I needed anything. I was glad for the reminder.

"Ponyboy?"

I started, but it was just Sodapop, and then Darry, coming out on the back porch and staring at me like I was crazy. Heck, I might have been, but if I was, they were, too. Without thinking again, I went to them. "Hey, guys."

"What the hell're ya doin' out here?" Darry asked, smearing a hand down his face. "You have any idea what time it is?" Oh, wasn't _that_ funny to hear. Sodapop tilted his head.

"Whatcha got there?"

Looking down, I pulled the notebooks out of the box and then set it on the ground, holding the notebooks tight. "My theme," I whispered simply.

"Was it…in the ground?" Soda asked. I nodded.

"Two-Bit and I buried it during the summer. He didn't know what it was."

"Why'd you have to dig it up _now?"_ Darry asked, and I shrugged.

"I wasn't scared of it anymore," I said sleepily, not really understanding myself, but I guess that was true enough. Darry and Soda both softened.

"There's nothin' scary in there," Soda said gently. "Or maybe there is, but you were brave enough to right it down."

"You were brave enough to live it," Darry whispered, tussling my hair. "C'mon back in, kid. We can worry more about it in the morning."

"I don't think I gotta worry 'bout it no more," I mumbled, already losing the fight to sleep, and I let Sodapop lead me back in by the shoulder.

"You're right about that," he said.

I set the notebooks on my desk and then crawled into bed. Maybe I'd read them again tomorrow for the first time in a long time. Maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I wasn't ready for that yet – but I didn't need to hide them away anymore. I didn't feel as lonely so more as I did when I buried them. I didn't feel as lonely now as I had when I wrote it.

No. No; my last coherent thought before sleep pulled me under was that from the day I'd written it, I'd not just become less lonely, I'd found all that love everyone had been going on about all summer, and I could only hope my heart would be able to hold it.

 ** _THE END_**

XXXXX

 **AN: I am so sorry it took me this long to finish this! A little over a year isn't bad…?**

 **I want to thank everybody who has read this story, talked to me here or on Tumblr about it, favorited it, followed it, or reviewed it. It took me _years_ to figure out what story exactly it was that Ponyboy was trying to tell, but I finally managed to stick with it and get it out there. I hope I stayed true to Ponyboy and his voice. :)**

 **To let you know about future plans, here's what it breaks down to: I have to finish _The World's Most Ordinary Wedding_ first, which has two chapters left, then I have a load of oneshots, and I think I've got one more novel in me. If you're a fan of sister fics, this one might be for you.**

 **Again, thank you all for sticking this out with me!**

 **Abby**

 ** _Final Chapter Playlist:_**

 ** _"Strawberry Fields Forever"_**

 ** _"The Fairest of the Seasons"_**

 ** _"Finale (Camelot)"_**


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